Elita's Wish
by ElitasLove
Summary: Elita wants wild loving and Optimus gives it to her everywhere and anywhere. But he is a Prime who carries a Matrix, an ancient device capable of its own action. How will the past set their future? Even the Dinobots? Lots of interfacing and spark merges
1. Chapter 1 Elita wishes for more

Author's Notes: Pairing between Optimus and Elita. Their love life has grown predictable and boring to Elita until he overhears her complaining. She voices 'wild wishes' and he decides to give them to her, whether she knows it or not.

WARNING: Interfacing and sticky mating this chapter.

**CHAPTER ONE**

**THE WISH TO BEGIN IT ALL**

In the Autobot recreation room, the two femmes continued their conversation, switching to a very personal subject. The last mech had left allowing them total freedom.

"Optimus goes slow, pleasuring me into at least one overload before interfacing. Then overload again before moving onto spark merging or slow going of pleasures building up to spark merging. Takes forever and a measurable amount of energy. I practically run dry from pumping out lubricant over that length of time," Elita said, reclining back in the huge metal chair. Her pink armored hand drew circles on the metal tabletop around the energon cube.

"And? Most femmes would take faces to have that attention lavished on them. What do you want different?" Chromia stated, gulping down her energon cube before crushing it and chucking it dead aim into the recycling chute.

The femme commander checked her sensors, confirming there were no Cybertronian energy signatures nearby. She leaned closer, a gleam in her optics. "Take his office. He practically lives in there. I could be standing there in my protoform begging him for his touch and he hand me a datapad mumbling about checking the data."

"That is Optimus and?"

"And I'd like him to spin me around, bend me over his desk and pound my hip plates off. Or grab me up heading out the door for our quarters, no delete that. Grab me up, wrap my legs around his hip plates and pump me until I cannot move," Elita confided.

"Ironhide does that all the time. No where we haven't sparked, except maybe Prime's office, here on earth at least," the dark blue femme smirked.

"You leave with injuries, I'll settle for being sore in all the right places. And when do we have the time? Prime and Femme Commander," Elita reminded, sipping at her energon cube.

"Make time, we do. Doesn't take long for fast hard interfaces. Oh, I see your point now. Hmm, have you ever mentioned it to him?"

"Back on Cybertron but not recently," Elita admitted. "Not exactly a conversation I can start. Lover, you are big, strong and have the responsibility for our entire race as the last matrix bearer and could you treat me like a short spark femme? Frag me all the time like a commoner then find time to fight Megatron and the Decepticons?" She mopped, finishing her energon.

"Recently as in earth or recently like the last ten thousand years? Your expression tells me," Chromia laid one armored hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "He does what you need and thinks is the best for you. Tell him."

"I will, eventually," she said.

Chromia snorted. "That's a no. Your choice but I would tell him. Then again, I tell Ironhide off all the time."

"And he takes it?" she asked, looking into her friend's optics.

"Pit yes. Revs his engine actually," she smirked.

Optimus reached, turning off the camera monitoring system. Randomly, he had stopped to check on Red Alert in the control room and noticed the monitor showing the femmes. He had sent Red Alert to fetch them both energon as he listened in on them. "She wants me to be forceful and faster? Hmm," he rubbed his silver chin plates with an armored hand, venting as his processors ran through scenarios. "Pleasure her intensely but no deliberate injuries, I could never hurt her that way. My office or anywhere we can. I can do that." His smile was almost frightening.

**PRIME'S OFFICE**

**TWO DAYS LATER**

Optimus cleared the last of the truly valuable data pads from his desk, storing them in a drawer. A single stack of four remained for effect as he checked the time chronometer. "Any astro second she will be here," he processed.

A tap on his half-opened door and the blazing energy signature that was hers resonated across his systems. "Come in," he stated without emotion, pretending to be intently reading the datapad he held. His metal chair creaked as he shifted, glancing up and her before nodding towards the piled datapads. "Can you verify the data Elita?"

"It is my duty to serve my Prime," she teased, sitting on the spare chair. Her white and pink armored frame shone brightly, contrasting with her intense blue optics. She faced him across the width of the desk gesturing towards the pile. "Will these humans ever tire of reports?"

"Apparently not," he shrugged, focusing on digitally locking the door. It clicked shut silently, securing them against all intrusions and closing all office comm lines but the emergency responses.

::I am unavailable for the next joor, no exceptions. You have command as my designated second:: Optimus sent on his command line.

:::Understood sir:: Prowl answered, switching all inbound Autobot frequencies to himself before closing down the line.

"Let me guess, they take weeks getting us the data then press for fast approval, citing this or that need," she said, accessing the first one.

"I have a more pressing need," he rumbled, reaching down with his hand under the desk and undoing his codpiece. Dropping the metal cover quietly into the open drawer, he felt his interface rod activating.

"When aren't there needs around here? Demands, wishes and orders. I thought we were bad, the humans are a thousand times worse with their paperwork requirements," she griped, her blue optics focusing only on the scrolling data.

Optimus stood and walked around behind her as his desire increased with her nearness. Energon flowed into his lines, audios and optics sharpened as his interface rod straightened. Venting faster, he leaned down placing his blue armored arms on either side of hers. One hand knocked the datapad out of her hands and sent it skidding off the desktop.

"Optimus," she shuttered her optics in surprise to glance up at him. He ran his hands down her pink armored shoulders then pulled, lifting her up. Confused, she rose to her feet pads while turning to face him. He touched her lip plates with his hand before trailing down her pink chest plates to her hip plates and leaning in close. "You won't need this," he whispered in her audios. His hand traced across her white mid armor to in between her legs. She vented in surprise as he removed her center plating. He dropped it to the desk then took half a step back. He leaned his face in close again. "And Elita."

"Yes?"

"Remember this office is soundproof," he touched his lip plates to hers then grabbed her, spinning her around with all his strength and designed combat speed. One hand pinned both her arms behind her as the other bent her upper chassis over the desk.

"What the slag!" She vented roughly, struggling automatically for a second.

"Not slag my love. Frag," he purred, leaning over her back. His free hand slid up her inner thigh before circling her valve edging. She started to stand upright and pull away from him. He grabbed her tightly, holding her in place between him and the desk.

"You are mine, I take what is mine," he growled.

"Opt…Opt…Optimus," she stuttered as his fingers roamed. "What are you….ohhhh."

One finger slid gently in her valve, smearing her ever-increasing purple lubricant. Then two fingers before they lightly pumped in and out the tight entrance. Elita mewed, no longer struggling in his grip as her legs moved wider apart. He slid his fingers out, mentally stamping on his normal routine lines of code. 'Not this time letting her adjust and getting soft,' he processed, aligning his hardened rod under her opening. He vented once, then pushed in as she arched crying out.

He smirked, barely able to keep her pinned while writhing then released her hands. Sliding out, he pushed back deeper inside her before thrusting in and out slowly. Her entire frame tightened, energy crackling along it as her hands clenched on the desk edge.

'No easing up or letting her reset to the pulses,' he processed, driving into her faster and faster. Her valve walls tightened on him, rippling with their friction.

"AAAHHHHHHH!" Screaming and plunging into a hard overload, her safety system barely kept her upright even as she sagged onto the desk.

He smirked, keeping a tight control on himself. 'Not yet, pleasure her again to overload and release. Keep the upper servo with her,' he processed.

"You...you...didn't...," she gasped out, turning only her head to look at him. Her optics were dimmer than normal but the smile on her lip plates was one of pleasure.

"I will," he narrowed his optics, pumping his hips. Still pressed deep inside her, she moaned at his movements inside her sensitized valve. Faster and faster, he worked his hips, driving into her. Her cooling fans whirred at full speed. A quick systems check showed him not much better. 'Time to up access battle reserves.' Files opened, coding flashed across his systems as energon reserves kicked into his main systems, medical protocols activated dampening pain sensors and increasing self-repair. Bracing, he grabbed her hip plates, lifting them up higher to drive deeper and faster. Metal on metal pounded, a ringing sound as they connected.

'Now,' he thought, hilting in and reaching his overload. Hot transfluid exploded out of him into her, coating her valve. With another scream, the overload hit offlining her. Elita's chassis sagged and he caught her before she could fall to the floor. Sliding his rod out of her, he chuckled at the mess on the floor and desk edge from their combined fluids.

Swinging her up to his chest plates, Optimus digitally signaled the right wall to open. A dark seam appeared in the center, dividing it into sections, revealing a small room with a single recharge berth wide enough for both of them.

Flashing bright blue her optics onlined, soft mewing sounds coming from her vocals. "My beautiful Ariel," he murmured, laying her on the recharge berth before reclining next to her. He stroked her faceplates with one hand, pressing his lip plates to hers. "Rest. I will guard."

Her engines purred, gliding into a lower setting entering into recharge. A breem later she was in full recharge. Two breems later, he slid off the berth, careful not to disturb her. He shut the wall, sealing her inside.

Opening the top desk drawer, he removed energon cubes. He gulped the energon, needing the refuel. "Phase one complete. Two phases to go." Grabbing a cleaning cloth, he began wiping at the purple lubricant and dark transfluid covering his front.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2 Optimus and the hallways

Author's Notes: Prime continues with his plan, forgetting life makes its own way. The unexpected will get your attention, in ways you cannot foresee.

**Chapter Two**

**Everywhere and anywhere**

Optimus relayed the schedule to his top command officers, noting each Autobot agreeing to the adjustments without question except one.

"_Are you positive my assistance is not required in this drill except to keep the control room empty?" Prowl. "That is not an adequate use of my abilities and skills."_

He snickered, wondering what Prowl would think of the real reason his Prime had requested outside battle drills, leaving certain hallways clear and the security system unmonitored. His memory processors replayed the smile and soft look to his spark mate's face plates as she had left the hidden room in his office, needing energon. Graciously, he handed her a large refill cube and a cleaning rag. Then she had left for her duties as a femme commander. 'And I spent breems trying to remove the smirk. Not a proper look for a Prime. Thankfully my battle mask helps to hide my expressions.'

An earth day later, he began what he deemed the next phase. Starting with a new drill schedule and planned privacy.

**PHASE II**

Inside the ark the warning alarm screamed, alerting to incoming danger. As Prime had anticipated, the few officers who knew it was only a drill relayed the secret to the rest. And the reward of high grade to the ten mechs who responded fastest and 'survived' the attack the longest with the fewest injuries.

"Never saw them move so fast," Optimus chuckled as his massive frame pressed against the sidewall of the main entrance. His silver armored hand held the datapad as he nodded to the various mechs running, racing and zooming by him at full speed.

A quick check with the security systems showed Elita in the supply room still trying to find his request order. "Brilliant processing to turn off the alarms and comm signals on that deck," he rumbled. Silence settled on the hallway and he leaned forward, audios and optics alert for any bot still left. There were none. He reached down, removing his codpiece and storing it in a leg hatch.

Transforming, he engaged his engine and rolled through the empty hallways and down the ramp to the storage decks. His red semi alt mode made little noise as he traveled then braked gently.

Elita leaned out the door, nodding distractedly at him before tapping her datapad. "I found eight of the ten parts needed. Are you sure this is the right storeroom?" she asked. He transformed upward, a look of puzzlement across his faceplates. She never noticed his codpiece was missing.

"They were there two orns ago. Prowl confiscated them from the twins and now we need them. I hid them in a box labeled 'basic hip cog gears'," he stated regally. "I am not facing the others over misplaced boxes. Red Alert will insist on more cameras and alarms, Prowl will ask to investigate and Ratchet will remind me he wanted them stored in med bay with other confiscated items."

"A true Prime problem," she chuckled. "'Relax dearest, we will find them."

"How about I relax with what I really want?"He narrowed his optics, moving in closer.

"Which is?" she asked, looking up from the box she was inspecting.

"You," he vented, diving forward and grabbing her tight against his chassis. The box fell to the floor with a thunk. Three steps back and they were in the open space of the hallway. "Now we have room," he murmured in her audios.

"Room? Since when are you claustrophobic?" She teased, pulling out of his grip to stand on her own feet pads.

"I'm not," he rumbled, his spark calling to hers.

"Uhm, we are on camera," her optics focused on his. "We need to move before Red Alert or the current security room watcher shows half the base our private activities."

Prime retracted his angular battle mask to truly smile at her. "Let me take care of that," he reached over his shoulder, pulling his massive black rifle from subspace. His armored arm swung out to the side, firing the rifle. A burst of ion energy and a smoking hole appeared in the metal wall. He swung the rifle behind his back in a show of marksmanship and blasted the two cameras further down the hallway. His blue optics never left hers, relying on his targeting systems.

"Optimus!" She vented in disbelief. "Red Alert will have a processor crash!"

"Ratchet can fix him," he shrugged human style then hid the rifle back in subspace. Internally he struggled not to laugh. 'Red Alert will be dancing with joy they are gone. Been after me for ages to update their settings and I resisted citing these hallways are rarely used and basic storage only.'

"What has gotten into you?" She shuttered her optics rapidly, a reaction he enjoyed seeing. It was not often he could surprise her after all their time as partners.

"The question is," he purred. "Do you want me gotten into you?" His interface rod began extending as she watched.

"What if a bot comes by? This is the ahh….hallway," she stuttered as he pressed against her frame, his length pressing hard against her abdomen plates.

"I am their Prime. They dare not say anything but continue on their way," he kissed down her neck, pulling on flexible cables. She moaned, scrabbling for a grip across his smooth battle armor. He pressed his lip plates to hers. "Up you go."

Strong armored hands grasped her pink hip plates, lifting and holding her close. She swayed for balance before wrapping her legs around him. He moved forward, pinning her between the metal wall and his armored chest. "Open for me," he asked, optics intense. Any hesitation, any fear or resistance and he would stop instantly.

Elita vented harder, a click signaling her port was open. She pressed her faceplates to his, nuzzling up the side of his faceplates. Lifting her a little higher, he aligned his rod under her. Sliding down, she shuddered as he pressed into her tightened valve.

His hips began thrusting, heaving into her. Then his thrusts met her half way as she moved her hips in rhythm.

"I...want...you...merge," Elita gasped out, her cooling fans audibly whirring. Her frame tightened before a seam appeared in her center chest plates. With the transform sound, they slid slowly to the sides and upward.

Without a word, his chest plates began to slide and move to the outer edges in transformation. The brilliance of his surging spark reflected in her optics. Her spark surged, tendrils of white energy reaching for his. The energy crackled, wrapping and fighting to weave together and merge.

THEY WERE ONE BEING

THEY WERE ONE SOUL

THEY WERE ONE

Venting, Optimus onlined his optics to look past Elita's shoulder plate at the ceiling. He did not remember overloading or falling backward, only feeling the waves of ecstasy fading from his systems. "I'm on my back, are her legs under?" he rolled his head to the side, realizing the angle. 'Ah, my shoulders touch but my knees are still bent. Her legs are wrapped around me but not pinned.' He shifted as warning sensors in his lower sensor array began pinging from compression. 'I'm made for battle, not bending. And to think humans do this deliberately.'

Moving his lip plates across her, he got no response. Tapping her helm with one hand, he beat out the old code for their private signal.

"Hmmm," she purred, onlining her optics to roll them up at him. "Wow," she vented, shuttering her optics closed again.

"Elita," he rumbled. "I really need you to move."

"Mmmmmm no. Comfortable here. We fit perfectly together," she murmured.

"I'm going to fit in med bay soon. My cables are pulling," he tapped her pink helm again then pointed down at the floor and towards his feet. She formed a pout, pushing off his chest plates then gasped as he slid out of her. More falling to the side than shifting off, she rubbed at her now closed chest plates.

He rose to his feet pads, helping her up then noticed the orange traces of paint across her armored back plates. Sheepishly, he noted the pink paint scratches on the wall.

Elita," he swung her around, running a hand across her shoulder and down her front to her hip plates. "More."

"More what?"

"More you," he rumbled. He grabbed her arm, pulling her up the ramp until they reached the first recharge room. "Recognize Prime, override Alpha PDX Two." The door lock flashed green, immediately opening.

"Optimus! That's not our room," she yelped. The pink femme tried locking her feet pads at the door brace. Grunting, he reached and lifted her over the threshold.

He leaned into her view range, blocking her actual vision. 'Keep her distracted, not too good a scan. I am betting she will not figure out these are guest quarters or that these items are spares from general storage. The grey floor and plain walls will give it away.'

"My ship," he narrowed his optics at her as his vocal tone deepened. "My rules, my femme anywhere I want." He rubbed his frame against her, feeling her chassis heating again.

"But what...if they...ugh...uhm...room," she stuttered as he roamed lower with his lip plates and armored hands.

"Engage lock, command Override Prime LJT 926. No admittance," he commanded. Two digital beeps confirmed his code. Smirking, he stroked up her thigh with an armored hand before pressing her core. "You will admit me." He slid a finger in, feeling her warm lubricant spreading. He pumped her a few times before withdrawing. Grasping her tightly, he knelt, laying her on the floor before pressing his frame over hers. His larger hips slid onto hers, sinking lower as she spread them wider.

Writhing, she surprised him by thrusting up and against him. Venting, he slid into her valve full hilt. Her fingers scratched at his arm plates without damaging. "Keep your optics online," he asked softly.

"Why?" she twitched her hips rubbing metal to metal.

"I dreamed of their light for over a thousand years Ariel," he tenderly caressed her helm with one hand. His hips began pumping, the force harder and harder as he thrust into her valve. The last thrusts lifted her off the floor.

She screamed his name, optics flaring before offlining with overload. He pumped once then twitched, hot transfluid exploding into her valve. Vents cycling full speed, he balanced on his elbow plates above her. Slowly he slid out, dark oily transfluid spilling out mixing with purple lubricant onto the floor from them both. He fell the short distance to the floor himself, resting by her. "That's two times I've remained online longer," he processed. "Fueling with extra high power energon helps."

She onlined her optics, mewing sounds coming from her vocals. "Am I in the matrix?"

"Not yet," he chuckled.

"Feels like it. Warm, content and with you," she murmured, forming a satisfied smile. He traced her faceplates lovingly with his hands before sitting up then rising to his feet pads.

Sheepishly he scuffed a footpad at the pink paint traces on the floor as she rose. Leaning forward, a quick glance confirmed there were grey steaks from the floor mixed with orange across her back plates. "Our quarters are the floor above. I need a rest."

"I can barely walk," she groaned, moving stiffly forward.

"I can carry you," he offered.

"Please?"

Surprised but delighted he held his arms out, wrapping gently around her to lift her up against his chest plates. A warning indicator flashed in the edge of his systems. 'Time for battle reserves again,' he processed. Humming, his system kicked a notch higher. The walk was short and quiet in the deserted hallways. Their door opened automatically for them. He bypassed the main room, going directly for their recharge berth. Released, she rolled onto the berth face down. He laid beside her, tracing the paint marks on her back.

"No," she pushed at him with one hand without raising her helm up. "My lower plates are too sore."

Ghosting over her metal, hitting every sensory node, she warmed quickly under his deft touches. 'One femme with plates pounded off as wanted check. One happy mech double check. Spark merging perfection,' he processed.

Sitting up, he reached and lifted her up, bracing her before him on the recharge berth. Faint whirring signaled his chest plates sliding open. "Please?"

Her optics focused on his blazing light before a seam appeared in her center chest plates. With the transform sound, they slid slowly to the sides and upward. Her spark surged, tendrils of white energy reaching for his. The energy crackled, wrapping and fighting to weave together and merge.

THEY WERE ONE BEING

THEY WERE ONE SOUL

THEY WERE ONE

Unnoticed, a small flare of light began forming on the right side edge of her spark. Her medical protocols wrapped it in protective coding, puling energon to her spark. Then the second formed directly across from it on the left side. Her spark flared, feeding them both as the third formed on the upper spires of her spark. The fourth strained her protocols, trying to cope with the newly forming essences.

Optimus roused, feeling danger. His hand grabbed his rifle from subspace before his optics fully onlined. Sensors flared, seeking the attack he felt. "Elita?" he murmured detecting nothing but her nearby on the recharge berth. He reached to shake her gently with one hand. Her metal felt cool to his touch and he nearly dropped his rifle. "Elita! Answer me!" His wrist hatch popped up, releasing the connection cable. His armored metal fingers yanked her wrist panel open, connecting instantly. Data transferred and he frowned as unfamiliar medical warning codes flowed across his processor.

::RATCHET! EMERGENCY! Meet me at med bay:: Optimus

::I am busy. Repairing Mirage after he went invisible and Ultra Magnus slammed:: Ratchet began answering.

::ELITA IS IN STASIS LOCK AND HER EMERGENCY RESERVES ARE NEARLY OUT. HER SYSTEM IS RUNNING WILDLY AND I CANNOT READ THE MEDICAL CODING. WHERE THE SLAG ARE YOU? I AM RUNNING FOR MED BAY WITH HER:: Optimus sent frantically.

:: Stay calm, meet you there with backup:: Ratchet

_To be continued..._

_Author's Notes: I know the normal pattern is an energy essence forming to the side of the spark then transferring to a shell. However, there will be an explanation provided of why more than one and Optimus explaining to Ratchet is going to be good enough to bring the popcorn for. And wrench proof shielding. Explaining to the other Autobots will be even better. _


	3. Chapter 3 Matrix and five surprises

Author's Notes: The fun continues. This plot is ongoing and while this chapter is smut free and probably the next it will return with our favorite couple eventually. Please review and let me know what you liked.

**Chapter Three**

**Of a Matrix and a willing femme**

Optimus clasped Elita against his chest plates, determined to keep her anyway he could. The twenty eight foot plus red and blue mech felt time slow as he waited for Ratchet then felt it speed by as her life signs dropped a notch lower. "Hang on Elita. Help is coming. Don't leave me." The Matrix of Leadership in his chest hummed, adding its power to his. "Primus let her be all right. I only wanted her happy," he prayed. The walls of the Autobot med bay echoed back his rapid venting.

The double doors swished open. Ratchet ran through turning sideways at full speed, his white and red chassis nearly scraping them. First Aid, though smaller and lighter was right on his heel plate followed by Wheeljack. His sidebars were flashing colors of distress.

Ratchet slid to a stop, gauging whether to grab her or allow Optimus to lay his mate on the recharge berth. 'If he goes ballistic, this will hurt,' he processed in an astro second. Wheeljack and First Aid dove for the emergency supplies, ignoring them both. Pointing at the medical berth, he waited. His vents released a soft gust of air in relief.

"Help her," Optimus blue armored hands shook as he stepped back from the berth and his spark mate. Protocols warred within him, demanding actions, pulling weapons and remaining back, allowing the medics to help her.

"Planning on it," Ratchet said, pulling data. His blue optics snapped to his own wrist connection and the relayed medical coding before glancing at Optimus in disbelief. The sharpness of his command bark did little to reassure his leader. "First Aid start double core energon drips now! Full flow with backups. Wheeljack, prep the spark charger. Prime, go clean up."

"No," Optimus spoke, his tone flat but carrying the strength of Cyberton steel. "I'm not leaving."

"That was an order. Go clean up!"

"No."

"As Chief Medical Officer, I am ordering you. We are helping Elita. Take time to refuel too. You need it so don't argue," Ratchet challenged him, his back to her. First Aid strung the lines, signaling to Wheeljack to release the energon bag locks. Thick blue liquid flowed, filling both lines to disappear into her lines. Both winced, feeling the tension in the room and doing their best to avoid the dark and purple stains on her and him.

"I need her." His optics never left her face plates.

Ratchet spun on his feet pads, dropping a wrench into his hand and throwing it. Faster than almost his enahnced medical optics could discern the other mech grabbed it from the air before crushing it. "Listen to me. Elita will stabilize, she needs energon and recharging. Not her spark mate raging."

"I'm not moving," he challenged.

Ratchet vented before giving orders. "Wheeljack, head for your lab. I'll upload what you need to build." The civilian scientist's optics flipped between the two mechs before he mumbled a response and fled for his lab.

"First Aid, change out the first energon bags," he watched as his assistant obeyed, nearly colliding with Optimus before going out and around him, keeping his optics down.

Frustrated, he switched to internal comms. ::Optimus! You stubborn aft! Look at yourself!:: Ratchet sent, hoping to distract him, even momentarily. :: You're covered with fluids and wobbling on your feet pads. Grab a towel and move out of the way. High power energon is in that cabinet. :: the medic pointed towards the wall. ::And put your codpiece on! I need to focus without you swinging in the wind::

"She will?" He focused on the medic.

"Yes Prime she will. However, I need you stable to discuss it and not one astro second before that."

Optimus snarled, the energon sword sliding into his hand and up to the medic's neck plates. "We will discuss it now." His optics blazed almost purple.

"She is carrying spark essences and I'm out of blue armor paint," he ground out.

Optimus' lip plates opened and closed without a sound as the sword retracted into his arm. Swaying, he shuttered his optics rapidly. CLANG! The wrench ricocheted off his helm removing a scrape of blue paint.

"PUT YOUR PARTS ON AND GET CLEAN! OR I'LL TRANK YOUR AFT UNTIL AFTER THEY ARE SHELLED!" the medic roared. His assistant, First Aid, ducked per self-preservation coding but maintained the fast flowing energon into her upper arm lines.

"Sparklings? Our sparklings?" he repeated numbly.

"See for yourself," he tapped into her systems triggering her upper armor. With the transform sound, her chest plates slid slowly to the sides and upward. Both vented as the lights sparkled.

"One essence of the right side, directly across on the left, upper edge and one on the lower edge," he pointed out each sparkling mini ball of light attached to her spark.

"Four sparklings?"

"Five," the medic corrected. "The other one is here, behind her spark. Once they are ready to deliver, it will rotate forward."

Outside the med bay doors, multiple mechs gasped, vented and stuttered in shock. Cliffjumper, Bumblebee and Huffer were kneeling against the doors, audios pressed tight. Hound, Jazz and Tracks leaned over them against the doors. Over them were Ironhide, Bluestreak and Mirage. All bore signs of the outside combat drill.

"Ahem," Prowl sounded, striding up to them. His black and white wing doors were angled to the sides in irritation. "Rules state privacy for all med bay occupants."

"Prime is going to have sparklings!" Bumblebee rushed out.

"Elita is having them," Huffer corrected, taking a step and dropping out more gravel from his leg gears.

"Five little ones," Jazz cheered. He was the cleanest, being tasked with monitoring the other Autboots in the simulated battles.

"Go Prime!" Hound added. The glued on Decepticon symbol was half peeled, the color fading. Worth a guaranteed cup of high grade, it was ignored by the others in the excitememnt of the moment.

"Five?" Prowl echoed before they all held up hands or claws showing five. His blue optics flickered, his white armored hands dropping to his sides as the hum of his systems stopped. His chassis stiffened, going straight over backwards. WHAM! His form hit the floor.

"Oops," Bumblebee winced, turning his yellow armored horns back and forth. Pieces of magnetic pretend shrapnel reflected the overhead lights. Pieces of sticks and tree branches dotted his joints.

"Logic glitch," Mirage shrugged, his regal blue and silver colors nearly hidden under soft mud and the distinct footpad mark of Ultra Magnus on his lower side. "Oh! Ratchet's yelling again." They resumed listening, the Second in Command forgotten.

In the main control room, Red Alert added a note to reprimand them for ignoring Prowl. It went in the daily report above the entry to verify why three cameras showed as disabled on the storage deck. Intrigued, he returned to listening to the hidden microphone. Cameras were forbidden in med bay but not audio recordings.

Inside med bay, Optimus caught the third wrench, flinging it to the side. With a yelp, First Aid dove below it as he ran for the parts room.

"Slag it! Do I have to weld your codpiece on? Haven't you caused enough trouble?"

"Trouble?" he growled before the red in his optics faded out completely. Shuddering, he dropped to his knee plates then sagged over. His hands draped limply on the floor as his helm bowed. "I gave her what she wanted. I want her happy. She wanted more," he mumbled. "I never thought it could hurt her. I need her," his vocals broke.

Ratchet dragged his hand down his face, feeling guilty. Elita's medical records updated as her chest plates closed and sealed. "One spark is normal, two happens. Three or more is not your fault but an overload," he twitched at the choice of words. Kneeling on one leg plate, he laid an arm across the other mech's shoulders. "And five is more," he commented wryly.

"You had to be dominating and her willing or the protocols would not have engaged even with all the times you fragged her. Don't deny it," he raised a hand in warning and rising to his feet pads. "I saw the paint streaks on her back, your knee and elbow plates, even the back of your hands. You're both wearing more drying lubricant and trans fluids than some mini bots can produce."

Optimus face plates heated as he rose to his feet pads, noticing the marks and stains on his armor for the first time. He rotated his hands, seeing orange and grey paint streaks on the high points.

"The sparkling essences tipped her over the fuel redline even though I know I saw her in the recreation room with Chromia this morning. Both of them holding energon cubes and chatting. You obviously fragged her senseless," Ratchet continued.

An incoherent mumble came from Optimus.

"Her system more than responded. Five sparks, all strong and forming. They are drawing on her spark but she is strong and a fighter. Like you. Which is why you will explain to her she is relieved of command, limited to light duty and not to lift, straining or move her system beyond an energon cube and absolutely no transforming."

He winced, knowing she took her duties as femme commander as seriously as he upheld his.

"One deviation of those orders and the cascade effect could wipe out the sparklings to fracturing her spires. Yes, you could lose her then we lose you and this war," Ratchet looked menacing. "I will not hesitate for an astro second to trank your aft and weld it to the ceiling above her if either of you disobey."

"We won't," he promised, his optics covering every inch of her pink armored form as it lay unmoving on the medical berth.

"Now sit there and open your chest plates. I need to show you something important," he softly ordered.

"My chest plates?"

"Yes unless the gears are worn from overuse," Ratchet teased.

"Not hardly," he challenged, using his greater height and frame width to intimidate.

"And put your codpiece on! I am not getting close until you do." He watched him pop a leg hatch and remove the metal cover. Once snapped in place, he nodded and waited until he sat on the medical berth. "I should have known giving you the codes to alter your transform was a bad idea. Only you and Ironhide would adjust it to be uncovered and transform too."

"Ironhide?" He raised an optic arch.

"His interface rod can be fully extended while transforming into both modes without damage or entrapment. Wanted to surprise Chromia on her spark day. Show how bad he desired her," he explained absently as the red armored chest plates slid open to reveal the Matrix of Leadership below. The rectangular device hummed around the glowing center. The medic reached in to remove it. "These are wear marks," he pointed to scrapes in three areas of the center part before setting it on the nearby counter. Ratchet turned back, beginning to reach inside of his spark casing.

"Hey!" Raising one arm defensibly, the larger mech leaned back. "Elita doesn't go playing in there"

"Maybe she should. Release energy without full spark merging. And I need you to understand it was not your fault for five sparklings," he grumbled, reaching in slowly to slide his hand across the lower edge of the metal casing. Withdrawing his hand, he turned it over. Bright metal shavings dotted his finger ends. "Spark spire alloy where the Matrix of Leadership peeled them off."

"What? How did it?" he stuttered.

"Describe your spark merges," he commanded.

"Fantastic after I slid..."

"Stop! I meant did you offline longer than normal? Medical warnings remain on your processor cores? How were they different than the rest?" he grumbled.

"We merged and I onlined to lying on the floor, bent at my knee plates with Elita still wrapped around me. We started the merge standing up with her pinned against the wall," he admitted.

"That would be dominating and willing, key requirements for the protocols. The matrix opened and joined with the power of your sparks. The surge knocked you both offline. You on your backside after overcharging her spark and protocols."

"The matrix? Are you sure? It's never," he trailed off, looking over at it.

"That you know of. Look," Ratchet displayed three holographic power scales, each similar. "This is the matrix by itself, taken in Wheeljack's lab under perfect conditions. Middle is your systems with its power active, from your medical records. This is Elita's as I first scanned her not one breem ago. Matrix energy intertwines her spark and the essences. Your blackout fragging was its release of power. Your next spark merge triggered her protocols to create a new life times five. It was not all your fault."

"Five?" he vented hard. "How will I handle it? I'll need help," he commented.

The double med bay doors opened, mechs falling into a pile.

"Me!" Bumblebee waved a yellow armored servo, the only part visible under all their chassis.

"I'll help!"

"I'll take one!"

"Count me in for two!" Hound added, pulling his leg from between Mirage and Bluestreak.

"You sure five will be enough?"

"I want to share too!"

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4 The five sparklings arrive

Author's Notes: More fun both on and off the berths to enjoy. Thanks to Phoenix13 for her name suggestions on the sparklings.

Detail explanation: In the book _Transformers the ultimate guide_, both Megatron and Prime have "spark chambers" to hold their sparks. A metal shape around pure energy. That is what Ratchet ran his fingers across the bottom of to pick up the metal shavings. There was nothing else behind his action and he never touched Optimus' spark or its energy.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**NEW ARRIVALS AND SHARING**

Optimus focused on Elita's pink and white armored form while sending all his love and desire for her through their touch. She lay half reclining on the medical berth in front of him, her left hand hidden in the secure grip of his blue armored hand.

:: I am here for you my beautiful femme:: Optimus sent on their private line

::You were there then too to help produce them. A big question is will you stay once they start screaming and needing tank changes?:: Elita teased, her nervousness showing in her squeezing his hand and widening of her optics. Her right arm was strapped tightly to the berth, lines interlaced with her own to feed energon, coding or any fluids as necessary in the event of an emergency.

::Try and pry me away:: Optimus growled, touching his lip plates gently to her helm.

"It's time," Ratchet announced. The five protoform shells waited neatly on the rolling cart, their chests open to receive the sparks. Wheeljack and First Aid stood behind it, ready to assist and hoping they would not be required. With a transformation sound, her chest panels began sliding to the side. The medic reached slowly, immobilizing the movement cogs to keep them open. His steady hands held the transfer scoop as he guided it under the first sparkling light. "You will feel it disconnect and see the warnings in your systems. Don't overreact and the warning will fade."

"I remember. We practiced this," her venting slowed.

"No amount of practice prepares for life," he reminded. The tiny ball of light settled into the scoop as the medic's blue optics focused on hers. "On three. One...two...three." He pulled straight up, freeing it from her spark with a crackling sound, quickly raising it above her plates.

Elita cried out, optics shuttering as the warnings triggered her deepest femme protocols. Her chest plates shook, straining to close over the locks. "Uggh...I...owww...." she grabbed, pulling on his arms. Optimus braced around her head and shoulder plates as she fought within herself.

"And connection," Ratchet said. The first protoform shell chest plates closed, locking together. Tiny optics opened as the little limbs moved. His multi faceted optics spun as scans checked every known reading. "Green and go. Mech number one. Optimus junior?"

"Bootes as in the constellation," the ancient Prime stated in his regal baritone, leaning over to gaze into the tiny optics as they closed for recharge.

"Let me guess, all star names?" Wheeljack's bars flashed green and blue with amusement.

"We are named after stars, Ariel and Orion. Keep it a family tradition."

"You have your own and name them what you want 'Jack. Four more to go," Ratchet reached for the second, hesitating when she pressed back into the recharge berth and away from him. "Problem?"

"No, the warnings are gone. It's hard to let them go," she admitted.

"If you don't your systems will eventually categorize them as a threat for drawing on your spark and act against them. The first is always the worst. Do you need coding easements?"

"No! I want to be fully online for this," she stiffened and deliberately relaxed her grip and inner cables.

The second and third transfer repeated the first, Elita fighting against the warnings as the sparkling lights left and her mate comforting as he could. Mech Delphinus and his sister Andromeda joined the first protoform sparkling. Wheeljack tenderly lifted each active protoform into the mini recharge chamber designed for their tiny size.

"Take a break after this one to allow the fifth to shift forward from under your spark. I can remove it but your lay lines cross there. I'd have to lock down most your major systems to remove the energy least it connect a charge as it moves," Ratchet explained, glancing over at the other two mechs. The fifth was the reason they were there. The potential for disaster of losing it and her was too great even with three fully trained medics. Wheeljack nodded, tapping his upper leg hatch. Inside it the specially coded tranquilizer remained for Optimus. 'If she crashes, he will go berserk. His rampage would offline her or one of us then we'd lose him to guilt and despair,' Ratchet processed darkly before banishing those lines of codes to his deepest processor.

The scoop lifted out the fourth light, a brightly sizzling aqua ball. "Active little mech," Ratchet commented as the sparkling fell into the chest chamber more than rolling into it.

"Then his designation is Frank," Optimus said before chuckling at their shocked expressions. "His designation is Volus for the star. Couldn't resist."

"Obviously not or there wouldn't be sparklings," First Aid quipped as his red and white armor shook with mirth. His boss bit back a groan as the others chuckled.

"And the little hiding femme is?"

"Lyra," Elita stated. "And hurry up will you? "

"Your chest panels hurting?" Ratchet linked into her medical relays digitally but preferred her explanation.

"Yes and I'll hurt you if I have to wait any longer to hold them," her right hand reached the sparklings direction, pulling against the restraint and inserted lines. The fifth light moved forward slowly from its hiding place. The astro second it was past her lay lines he scooped it and moved towards the sparkling protoform.

"She's convulsing!" Her mate held her upper chassis as she thrashed. Red Alert took the scoop to handle the transfer as Ratchet dove back for her. His metal fingers altered into an injector coder and plunged the data nannites into her arm lines.

"System is resetting from the sparks missing. Part panic and part processor conflicts. She knows they are safe and online against protective spark protocols reaching for their missing echo," he explained. "There, settling now. I'm putting her into light recharge for a quarter of a joor. Needs the rest and she can kick my aft later for not holding them sooner."

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

**ARK RECREATION ROOM**

Optimus watched his sparklings, each held by a mech. 'Not held but guarded as a treasured miracle, cradled above their spark as though it were theirs,' he processed. 'Elita and I worried about caring for five and every mech on this ship has helped. Our quarters have had more activity than a space station transfer area. ' The recreation room was nearly full, the entire attention on five tiny protoform shells. Elita sat on the couch surrounded by the other femmes as they chatted. Encircling them were the sparkling holders.

He vented in amazement and wonder at the sight and the treasure that was his femme. Her recovery had taken over an earth day and he had kept his fears from her as the medics had from him. 'The two weeks since I realized their existence finally seems to be slowing into normal time,' he processed. A warning began flashing in the lower corner of his vision, indicating low power reserves. 'I need to recharge and refuel. Not sure when I did last. Too many bottles of energon to oversee and hand out.'

His Second in Command moved to stand in front of him and gesture for a private conference.

"Yes Prowl?" He recognized the faint signs of the I need to talk to you but not sure how in the way his officer held his door wings. Otherwise his black and white armor was spotless and maintained as ever.

"I hate to mention this sir," Prowl began, rubbing the back of his white helm with an armored hand. "Are there any plans for more?"

He raised an optic arch, noting that his Second in Command was being sincere. "We never planned on them," he rumbled.

"It's just...have you seen the weekly reports? Since the day you let us help raise them, the ship has had no security issues sir. None. Not one fight, one improper prank or disturbance. I did have to ban trading for them," his optics rolled up and around.

Optimus' optics narrowed as his vocal tone deepened. "Trading?"

"Not what you are processing sir. Mechs were trading their possessions, assigned chores and more to spend longer with the sparklings. As in I will take your guard shift tomorrow if I can have your hour sparkling sitting today. I did immediately ban trading weapons when I discovered it."

He pinched his nose plates with one blue armored hand in exasperation. His processor created the image of his troops in battle holding a sparkling toy and not a weapon, having traded them away.

"Five are enough to share but not enough per the complaints."

"How many more would they like?" he asked, keeping his baritione tone light. He was tempted to order Prowl to share the same conversation with Elita then decided against it. The mech was trying to fulfill his duty and be informative to a superior officer, not lewd or suggestive.

"However many without endangering yourself or Elita. There have been mentions to the other femmes but no agreements that I am aware of. Chromia expressed an interest in enhancing her capabilities to spark. Ratchet tried threatening her with a wrench," his tone was professional but held an undertone of mirth.

"Ironhide blasted it?"

"No."

"She blasted it?" The power warning in his vision dropped another bar level and turned a deeper red.

"No," his lip plates turned up on the corners.

"And?"

"She took it from him and threatened to wrap it around him."

"The threat being?" the tall red and blue mech asked.

"It was how low and where on his anatomy she would wrap it," he started to explain.

"I got the image!" he chuckled.

"Her friendship with Moonracer kept her from carrying it out. Truthfully, if I knew a sparkling could bring peace I might have had one myself," he admitted. Optimus optics snapped to his face plates, expecting him to logic glitch. The monochromatic mech shrugged, being honest.

The wall intercomm buzzed before emitting four quick beeps for official business. "Jazz to Prime, need ya big bot on the command deck. Readings might be 'Cons or another weather balloon. Blades wants to blast it and Air Raid and Silverbolt to try capturing if it is a seeker."

"On my way," he answered. He strode out of the recreation room, ignoring the still flashing warning in his lower vision. Four steps and the deck under him heaved. He reached for the wall to brace as it spun under him as the lights failed. His last conscious thought was of Elita and the sparklings being safe with so many of his soldiers surrounding them.

_To be continued..._

_Next chapter coming up fast and a return to Optimus and Elita loving and merging. _


	5. Chapter 5 More on the way

Author's Notes: Back to the smut. Please leave reviews and let me know what you think. Or e-mail a private note if you prefer a lower key option. Ever wonder how Optimus is so good with his hips with his battle armor and number of parts? So does Elita.

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**MORE IS REVEALED**

Optimus pulled out of recharge, blinking his optics in confusion. 'Where am I?' he puzzled in total darkness, feeling his arms bound together above his head as he hung upright. Metal chains clinked, confirming his bindings. His feet pads shifted on the floor, feeling a smooth metal surface. Soft venting sounded, telling him he was not alone.

"You'll not get anything from me," he ground out, his optics discerning only walls in the darkness. Systems were slowly rebooting, leaving him defenseless and unable to call for help. The Matrix hummed against his spark spires, a soft reminder of its power. He both rejoiced and mourned. It was safe within his chest. 'As long as they leave it closed.'

Receivers identified armor pieces missing and his chest panels unlocked. Integrity processors were offline, indicating at least one intrusion into his systems. 'The matrix can strengthen me until rescue arrives but if they take it, the matrix can be lost to our existence. Its power cannot be corrupted or forced to serve evil. Primus if you are listening, let me exist long enough to see my sparklings again.'

A soft tapping sounded from behind him, as though the owner of the footpad was impatient or waiting. "Release me now and I'll let you keep your face and your spark. Primes make poor captives," he growled.

A soft feminine chuckle echoed from behind him. "Really Optimus, must you be so melodramatic?" The lights clicked on revealing their private recharge area. The recharge berth was to the left and the door to the main room behind him.

"Elita?" His processors nearly glitched as her pink and white armored form moved into view. Smirking, she paused before him.

"Surprise."

Raising an optic arch, he reached for her spark call. A feeling of love, pure and bright called back at him. Venting softly, she touched her armored hand above her spark as their optics meet.

"Yes, it's me. Not a hologram or Decepticon trick. You are in our rooms, in the Ark at Mt St Hillary. Our sparklings are recharging with Ironhide and Chromia. You red lined your reserves after leaving the recreation room. Jazz got worried when you never appeared on the command deck and went looking. Trust a spy and thief to be discreet. Wheeljack and Ratchet administered emergency energon infusions before helping me move you here. The official story is they are giving us alone time. This unofficial part is all me," she gestured up before removing and tossing her codpiece onto the nearby shelf.

"When did you add this?'' He pulled against the ceiling chains and locks missing her movement.

"Wheeljack designed it and Ratchet installed nearly six orns ago. Use it to move you onto the recharge berth when injured. They got tired of straining back struts every time. I take care of you as well as them and here is more relaxing for you and hides your injuries from worrying the others," she shrugged human style. "The support straps fits your entire frame, I uhm, switched them out for the wrist locks. Modified a set of Prowl's cuffs from the brig. You like?"

"Not particularly," he tensed, pulling on them without breaking free. "I like touching your frame and running my lip plates over your cables."

"Mmmmmm, me too," she turned on her feet pads, stepping lightly to the bunk at the edge of his vision."Hmmm, the sight of you helpless there for my every desire. Image taken, filed and stored for review," she chirped while raising one armored hand towards the ceiling. The chains lowered. "You are always in control, might do you good to be submissive." The cuffs opened, releasing him.

"On the berth with you but not trussed up like a captured turbo fox," he rubbed at his wrists, grimacing at the chaff marks on his metal. Base silver showed through the layered blue alloy from his struggling.

"How about trussing me up? We haven't tried that," she teased, looking over her shoulder as she hopped onto the recharge berth.

"Don't tempt me," he answered, staring as the chains recede up into the ceiling to disappear behind a sliding ceiling cover. He focused back on her and vented deeply.

"You like the view?" She purred, leaning back against the wall. Sitting, her legs splayed to either side giving him a clear view of her open valve, already moistening with the barest trace of purple lubricant

He deliberately focused on her faceplates, pretending to rub his chin plates with a hand. "Your blue optics are always delightful," he murmured.

"My optics, hmm? I take it your interface rod agrees," she pointed to his growing desire.

He rolled his optics before climbing up onto the berth next to her. "I take it you removed my codpiece?"

"Once we were alone in here. No need to remind the others of your Prime assets."

Grasping her arms, he slid her down to lay alongside. "Five sparklings are enough of a reminder." One strong-cabled arm reached behind her to grasp her aft. Giggling, she wiggled her lower frame. His hand slid part way down her leg before lifting it up over his hips as they lay on their sides. He scooted closer, aligning with her. Sliding into her valve, he shuddered feeling her warmth and tightness. Moving, they fell into rhythm as their overload built. The humming of the Matrix in his chest and excess energon from his earlier panic had him pounding her hard. They climaxed together, venting and offlining. He onlined first, his rod still deeply buried in her valve but softening.

She onlined, moaning softly and he immediately tightened his grip on her. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, tight back cables. You are not easy to move and lift to chain up. Can I lie here for awhile and enjoy your presence without screaming sparklings interrupting?"

"Only if I lie within you," he murmured, using his lip plates to move down her front. "Better yet, lie flat and let me work you." His interface rod hardened as they shifted. Elita lay on the berth as he lay over and between her hip plates, beginning to thrust.

"More," she panted and grasped his shoulder plates to push his upper body away. A seam appeared in her center chest plates. With the transform sound, they slid slowly to the sides and upward.

Without a word, he balanced on his elbow while still thrusting deeply into her valve. His simulated glass chest plates began to slide and move to the outer edges in transformation. The brilliance of his surging spark reflected in her optics. Her spark surged, tendrils of white energy reaching for his. The energy crackled to spiral together and merge.

THEY WERE ONE BEING

THEY WERE ONE SOUL

THEY WERE ONE

He onlined to them wrapped around each other, her cooling fans running high as her system lowered its hum. The Matrix hummed in his chest. He glanced down, confirming his chest plates had closed and relocked over it. She onlined, her optics focusing on him. "You should feel the wonderful wet warmth I feel."

"I do," he whispered in her audio, twitching his hips. She vented as he slid out, limp and relaxed. Murmuring, he caressed her valve edge with his fingers. "Ready for another round?"

"Only if I drive," she whispered back. "After a rest. You are incredible."

"Only with you," he chuckled before turning over to lay on his front. "Being with a Prime has its advantages," his vocals muffled from pressing into the soft covering.

"A Prime or primed parts?" She verbally jumped on his words. "I've known you thousands of years and I know Ratchet and Wheeljack. Adding this, repairing that and enhancing you for battle. How about enhancements for the berth?" Her fingers trailed down his back to dig into a wider armor gap.

"Hey! That's sensitive," he hissed as she dug deeper into reactive wires. "All right, I confess. Specialized hip component additions since arriving on earth. I have a lot more to transform down there."

"I'll say," she smirked, patting his aft plates.

"Femme!" He vented, turning to look over his shoulder at her. "That's not what I meant. Most Autobots, the ones with car modes, have four tires to transform. I have how many sets of dual wheels on my main chassis? Plus the braking and guidance systems for all those simulated tires."

"And no added or designed for interfacing? Not even one?"

"One flexibility joint in both hips," he admitted.

"Post earth?"

"Yes."

"And on Cybertron, how many special joints or additions for interfacing?" Her blue optics spun in tighter as she ran his design specs internally.

"Elita! You make it sound…specialized. A mech my physical mass and fighting capability has parts the mini mechs do not even know exist. Ask Ratchet every time he has to make repairs. My blue helm is his favorite target. It's like…"

"Like you are evading my question," she leaned across his back, letting her front chest plates press lightly on his armor as she stroked one of his blue helm antennas.

"Yes, the last modificatin was two sets of pistons installed for thrusting and related," he admitted.

"You! You sneaky! Armored Prime my aft!" She shrieked. Faster than she could blink, he twisted his entire body, grabbing her and spinning to pin her below him.

"I wanted you happy!" He held the struggling femme down, pinning her with his mass weight. "I never increased my rod size least I hurt you. The parts need constant repair and I endure Ratchet poking and prodding in places only you should touch my beloved Ariel. To pleasure you because I love and need you," he stressed, almost pleading.

"Only for me?"

"You are my one desire and the joy to my spark," he crooned. She nipped at his neck cable while her deft little fingers wiggled around his side and under his glass front. "Ahhhhh…what are?"

"Your spark is not changeable and the one part of you I trust. Spark merge and I will forget you keeping that secret Prime," she relented. He released her, trading to lie on the berth, letting her take control. She straddled his hips, leaning forward to lay their chests together. Her spark called to his. His interface rod straightened. "Nuh uh. That part is cheating. Merging only," she whispered in his audio before the faintest transformation sound began.

His glass-plated front began splitting to the side as up to reveal the brilliance of his spark and the Matrix of Leadership. Her fingers trailed over it before hovering above his spark. Pulsing, shimmering energy tendrils began reaching for her. One wrapped around her finger tingling as it dissipated.

"Elita!" Optimus groaned, moving restlessly on the berth. His rod beat on her leg making her self-control wavering towards interfacing.

"Easy Orion, I'm just following Ratchet's orders. Pull some energy before we combine," she reminded, venting hard and deeply as her mate. More energy tendrils reached as she twirled her fingers in them, pulling energy outward from his spark.

Her spark pulsed, its energy tendrils reaching. Optics darkening, she compressed her lip plates and struggled with internal programming. 'Go slow, pull and….pull….pull him inside!" Her optics snapped open as she thrust her hips backwards onto him. His massive size pushed into her valve stretching but not tearing. A single thrust filled her with his hardened rod. Engine revving she dove for his open chest, merging her spark with his.

THEY WERE ONE BEING

THEY WERE ONE SOUL

THEY WERE ONE

Optics onlined, to a pink smooth metal surface bare inch from his optics. Shaking, his armored hand reached and stoked her helm.

"Mmmmmm," she murmured raising slowly up.

"Elita! Don't move, you're hurt," his concern flooded his systems. The charring nearly hid the bent metal on her left side panel and felt rough to his touch.

"Didn't feel it happen," she blinked even as her hand rested on his. "Nannites will fix it."

"Ratchet can fix it," he corrected, moving his hands to ease her to the side and sit them both upright.

"He's going to yell about our sparking."

"He won't if my ion rifle is rammed in his vocalizer. If he can tell you to play with my spark energy he can fix what happens next," he stated.

"I need energon," she stretched then held him as he winced trying to shift off the bunk. "What?"

"I blew a hip power coupler. Too much energon drained into central systems and it ran dry," wincing as the pain between his legs and his back plates surged. "Owwwww," he moaned, clenching and making it worse.

"Relax, I have just the answer." She hopped off the berth, grabbing a pink glass bottle with medical labeling. Returning, Elita cupped his faceplates gently in her hand, laying a kiss on him. "It's cooling gel. Face down and spread them," she ordered, gesturing at him.

He rolled over onto his front. She squeezed out a gob, smearing the metallic gel liberally on his protoform parts below his armor. Cooling relief spread, letting him feel her massaging his parts without the residual pain. "Oh, don't stop. That feels fantastic."

"Funny, that is usually my line," she quipped. "The nannites in the gel disable sensors temporarily. You have to see Ratchet. And what were your processing? Running low on energon enough to run dry?"

"When you are around my processors seem to focus elsewhere," he admitted sheepishly. "And dry is hardly the word I would use."

She giggled, realizing they both had purple lubricant and dark trans fluids across their fronts, sides, and lower backs. "Hmm, with those armor scratches he's going to accuse me of abusing you. Maybe his assistant First Aid?"

"No," he rumbled. "Only the best for your repairs and that chest panel is not where I want his servos. Not even Wheeljack or Hoist's hands go there."

"You can go there," Elita murmured. Unnoticed, a small flare of light began forming on the right side edge of her spark. Then the second formed directly across from it on the left side. Her spark flared, feeding them both as the third formed on the upper spires of her spark. Protective spark protocols waited for the echo of her fourth and fifth that never appeared. Only three formed so soon after the first set, her coding unable to distinguish they were truly different. Medical protocols wrapped them in protective coding, puling energon to her spark and waited to update a report that could never complete.

His engine hummed, pulling the energon into immediate use. "I go where I want."

"You are going to med bay and no arguing," she tapped his armor in warning.

"Only if we can spark there too," he teased.

"WHAT!"

"We did it in my office, the hallway, and spare quarters so why not there?" his lip plates caressed over hers as his hands roved over her chassis.

"No...uuhhh...distractions...," she vented, rousing to his touch. "We need...need... I need you."

"Then you shall have me," he rumbled, teasing the edge of her valve with his fingers. One slid inside before teaming with another to pump lightly in and out.

The scream of the battle alarm shattered the moment.

_To be continued..._

_Next: An aroused Prime goes into battle and the cooling gel wears off. With really bad timing. What happens and what will the other Autobots think? _


	6. Chapter 6 Tripping and tripped up

Author's Notes: Sorry, not doing the obvious bondage thing. It is in several other fics already, what could I add to it? The chains were a practical way to move him and feel like a captive. Originally, Elita was going to borrow Jolt's whip and use it on him to charge him that way but it came out too painful and warped. In addition, Jolt is movie verse not G1. Therefore, the chains recede into the ceiling and disappear, for now.

Please read and review. The passion will return as the story continues.

**CHAPTER SIX**

**TRIPPING AND TRIPPED UP**

The convoy of driverless vehicles neared the remote valley, slowing as they pulled onto the side turn off road. The red semi led the way, exotic race and luxury cars following up the steep incline until the trees thinned, revealing the edge of the dam. Blue sparkling water reflected on their passenger side while the steep drop off to the left limited their path to the two lane road. The semi shuddered rolling over the speed bump.

"Owww," he cringed as his lower chassis hurt with each tire set bumping across. Medical warnings began flashing in his lower vision. 'Slag it. Why if Ratchet and Wheeljack could emergency fuel me they couldn't make it a top off!' Fuel indicators dropped, flashing more additions warnings.

_Energy reserves at 31%. Recommend immediate top up._

_Right hip power coupler disabled, replacement required. _

_Battle protocols adjusting,_

_Long term direct combat in bi pedal mode cautioned._

_Pain sensor overrides engaged. _

Optimus slowed before Transforming, taking hobbling steps as his ion rifle slid into his hands. "Megatron," his optics narrowed as his enemy faced the opposite direction. The wind carried the sound of his yelling back without the words. Starscream threw his cubes down, turning to scream back.

::Move into position while they are distracted. Fight but do not pursue. The dam needs protecting. Thousands of humans live in its path if it breaks:: Optimus sent on the Autobot frequency. Each nodded or gestured they understood as they moved all directions. His battle mask slid together as processors and battle computers shifted him to Prime. Ironhide moved first, approaching silently atop the cement top as he followed.

::You okay? Walking like a decrepit old bot:: Ironhide

::Hip problem and you're older than I am:: Optimus

::Hip huh? Sounds more like a femme problem. Been there, hurt that:: Ironhide

Rumble saw them first, opening his lip plates to warn when a sliding kick smashed into him. His crumpled form sailed over the dam side. Decepticons turned towards the sounds of his water landing.

"Decepticons!" We're under attack!" Megatron yelled, firing at Hound emerging down below from the opposite tree line. The cross fire began.

'Why does he always start with Decepticons?' Prime wondered for a split second, targeting the dead center of his silver back. 'Who else would he yell to?" The gun sights locked, his finger pulling the trigger instantly.

A flash of deep blue moved between as time seem to slow. Metal crumpled with a screeching sound as the black arm canon broke free from the mass collision and fell forward. Megatron's silver form tilting over as Soundwave's arched lifting into the air taking the shot instead, throwing him forward.

"No!" Prime yelled, seeing Megatron intact and unarmed. "I wanted him injured to leave. We cannot destroy this dam.' Running forward, he threw the rifle onto his back plates as his blue armored arms outstretched to tackle. Red optics barely saw him before his flying tackle sent them both skidding, the arm cannon knocked to the side.

They rolled, each grabbing and clawing for any weakness. His bent arm rammed the other mech's helm back, causing Megatron to scrabble blindly for a grip. Metal shifted under his hand, and he dug in, feeling a sticky warmth. Prime screamed and heaved upwards, throwing him off.

"Losing energon from a wound? We've barely began. How weak have you become?" Megatron sneered then vented in shock at his hand. His purple lubricant spotted hand.

The other mech growled, reaching down and firmly snapping his hanging codpiece firmly into place. "Megatron, do not ever touch there again."

"How twisted are you? This is battle! And you are a Prime!" he screamed, processors barely hanging on.

Blue optics narrowed, as his systems screamed to attack and use the distraction to fire a spark shot. Instead, he straightened and winked an optic. "Maybe it's you I am attracted to. You feel it don't you? The years of fighting, our chassis pressed close and neither winning to dominate. The pain of our fights that linger like a twisted pleasure. The wondering when and where we will meet again."

Megatron's jaw gears went slack as his processor glitched. "Never! We are brothers! You are my...we..."

"We could continue this over warm energon and cooling oils," he suggested, shifting his rifle off his back. Twenty seconds and it would position to fire. His hip throbbed as he crouched, shifting the weapon forward.

"Decepticons retreat! Retreat!" He was the first airborne. Thundercracker grabbed Soundwave, jumping into the air with him as they all took flight.

"Was that Megatron or Starscream? Thought only Screamer had that high a pitch," Jazz commented, rolling up and transforming. Cliffjumper ran up, kneeling and bracing his tripod on the dam edge. Both looked skyward, missing the crumbling edge.

"The edge is," he began warning and taking a step. His footpad slid, unable to gain traction. His blown hip coupler remained offline, unable to boost his strength and power to stop. Prime staggered, arms flailing for balance as mass and speed fought him.

"Aaaahhhhhhhhhhh!"

Both Autobot mechs snapped around at the yell, scanning for their leader.

"Oh pit," Jazz swore as his optics rolled down to lock on the sliding red and blue shape. The distant thud made them cringe.

"Where's Prime?" Ironhide strode into view, his rifle end smoking. Both pointed over the side.

Optimus onlined, systems barely rebooting as he lay face down on a soft surface. A shape pressed under his front and shoulder. "Ohhhh," he rolled over, more falling forward than turning. "Elita? Is this another kink of yours?" he mumbled. Ironhide and Prowl's faceplates moved into his vision.

"Easy boss," the red warrior cautioned. "You fell a ways. Landed on your rifle."

He felt them tugging, trying to get him upright. Hands touched all over, grabbing and bracing as he sat up. Tilting, he yelped, twisting to the left as pain pounded from his hip.

Their concerned vocals merged into a blur. "Shut up!" Ironhide bellowed. His face plates filled Optimus' vision. "What's wrong?"

"Blown hip coupler. Ran dry of energon," he vented. "I'm fine, I'm okay. Need space to transform," he vented, trying to pull free.

"No you're not," he argued. They all held him still.

"Ran dry? Where are you losing energon? How were you wounded?" Prowl ran his white armored hands down his back plates and around to his legs.

"Not wounded and hands off," he slapped at his friend.

"But you said," he sputtered.

"You wrestled hard enough to strip the paint off your armor," Jazz noted, pointing at the silver of his protoform showing on both wrists.

"You got marks all over ya Prime, including yer chest plates warping," Ironhide growled. "Let Ratchet check you out. He can be here in a few breems."

"I will transform and return to base," he said. "That's an order." Grunting, they lifted him upright to standing, his cooling fans whirring loud enough for them all to hear. He tensed and winced as his legs shifted together and parts rotated in transform. Shuddering, he vented in and out, pulling air over his sore system before engaging his engine. "Owwwww," he vocalized as the vibration made it worse.

Prowl and Ironhide exchanged a worried glance before transforming and falling in close to their leader. Huffer transformed, sliding under his silver trailer and hooking to it. The drive back was long and slow as they kept watch over him. Ratchet met them half way, transforming and scanning him in his alt mode. "He can make it," his diagnosis, transforming back to his red and white ambulance alt mode.

They escorted him to med bay, the doors closing them off from their leader and Chief Medic. Ratchet doubled over, laughing to burst a strut. Optimus ignored him, too tired and aching to care. He loaded the injector himself, removing a leg panel to trigger it over his protoform. Pain relief spread as he moved to sit down on the medical berth.

The wall ahead of him slid apart, Elita's pink and white armored form stepping through from the hidden passage. "About time you got back. Five of them comm me you were hurt and volunteered to watch the sparklings for me to keep vigil with you. Instead I find you needing the wash racks and a can opener. Really love, where were your processors?"

"Keeping the bots from going off the edge. Jazz and Cliffjumper were intent on the fleeing Decepticons, not where they were standing. I only missed that one piece of metal," he admitted.

"Trapping your foot pad, thereby tripping you to stumble right over the side ker splat!" She pantomimed, tugging a bent piece of his armor off.

"One more step and I would have recovered," he said the winced as the metal clattered to the floor.

"Be a breem before the others recover seeing you go over like that. Though Jazz describing you as a red and blue slinky toy was funny." More metal removed to add to the floor pile. "Oh, relax. We've all done something stupid like that."

"Not in front of the others as Prime and team leader," he groaned, hiding his face plates in his metal palms.

"True. You can always claim the fatigues of the battle affected your balance compensators. Hmm, you need a good rub down and wash on your protoform," she smiled. "Most your external armor has to come off anyways. Lay down while I get the oils." With a weary sigh, he more fell than laid on the medical berth. It groaned with his sudden mass but held.

"If this breaks, leave me here," he mumbled.

"Ironhide's replaced five of their recharge berths since Chromia arrived," Ratchet chuckled as he wiped at bleary optics.

"Five?"

"Three from their over enthusiastic activities, one Ironhide blasted in temper and one Chromia blasted when her rifle jammed, or rather unjammed" she explained, her hands deftly undoing his panels. Her bent chest plate edge caught the light and Ratchet's attention.

"Hold still, let me scan that," he ordered. The blue green light flashed across her before circling in over her spark. His multi faceted optics spun faster then snapped to her mate before back to her.

He patted her arm then took a step back, subspacing out dozens of wrenches. They clattered into a metal box at the end of the counter. A hard kick and the lid snapped down, the hum of a force field engaging. He turned, his blue optics flickering with red.

"I am going to weld both your chest panels shut! You!" he pointed at Optimus, "are going to be immobile when I transform your legs into a solid mass and rip out your interface processor! You!" he pointed at Elita. "Your punishment is taking care of the sparklings!"

"Our five are a joy or hadn't you noticed the way every other mech and femme wants to help?" she said back.

"I meant the three new ones! And you birthing them!" he yelled as both fists clenched at his side.

"Three?" Both Optimus and Elita gasped in unison.

"Either remove the Matrix when you spark or I'm throwing you both in the brig for willful neglect and endangerment! And my slagging sanity!" the medic stormed around his med bay. "I didn't attend med school and go through battles to become a field medic to sparklings! Are you even listening to me?"

Optimus was half reclining the medical berth, his hands tightly wrapped around hers as they stared into each other's optics.

The double doors to med bay slid open, Jazz, Prowl and Tracks jostling each other in their haste to get through.

"I get first pick!" Jazz announced, sliding to a stop in front of the couple. His blue visor shimmered left to right.

"Senior officers first!" Prowl corrected, his black and white wing doors nearly fluttering with excitement.

"I want one! Mech or femme doesn't matter but the best for the best, me that is," the blue armored Tracks stated.

"How?" Ratchet glared.

"We are the next three on the list for sparkling sitters and guardians," Jazz said.

"I meant how did you hear what I just said?"

"Just said ? Tracks told me in the hallway," Prowl turned towards him.

"Bugged your med bay?" he smiled before turning and running for his spark into the hallway, a screaming medic right behind.

"Prowl? You a sparkling guardian?" Elita blinked in astonishment.

"Faster than having one of my own," he admitted, his optics dropping towards the floor.

Jazz's system hum stopped, optics going dark. His form went stiff, falling over backwards too fast for them to catch. Elita and Prowl rushed to help as he sat up, visor blazing as he laughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Never thought I'd hear Prowler admit to wanting," he laughed.

"Keep it up and you'll be wanting in the brig!" the Second in Command warned.

"Only if it's got a sparkling recharger installed," he retorted.

_To be continued..._

_Next chapter: Ironhide and Chromia needing help then Sunstreaker discovers Prime's secret._


	7. Chapter 7 Discoveries and design

Author's Notes: Prowl did not touch Optimus for anything but to check for injuries. He is the last bot to grab a feel. Someone would have explain how to do it and why for him to figure it out. Then his logic glitch would activate and he still wouldn't know. Hmm, sounds like he needs time with a femme.

The matrix described is the G1 version with a center orb and the outer oblong frame with grips on either end NOT the movie verse spiked dagger type. Research on tf wiki. Please review as it helps me keep writing with new ideas and theories. I try to keep my fics different from others and within certain rules. Thanks to my fans.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**A PARTNER AND A PLAN**

Ratchet, Chief Medical Officer of the Ark and Autobot earth forces threw the bent metal pieces into the recycling bin without looking. His assistant, First Aid frowned as they clattered in. The clean up following Optimus leaving with Elita lacked the usual grumbling and jokes.

"You seem...off balance sir. Is there a problem I should be aware of?"

"Problem? Pit! Why would there be a problem? Other than we are ankle plate deep in sparklings! Multiplying like energon rabbits without thought for their care or safety. Ugh!" He cupped his helm in his white armored hands then vented hard enough to rustle the data chips on the counter.

"Getting to you too aren't they?" his assistant smiled.

"Define they," he asked without moving.

"The sparklings sir. I can handle char burns, laser blasts and even missing parts without my energon churning but one of them and my processors spin. Even with all my training I react differently," he admitted.

"And?" his multi faceted optics focused on the smaller red and white armored medic.

"Touches my spark enough I want one. Not the femme or the interfacing but one of them to hold and cuddle and never let go."

"It's our medical protocols," Ratchet straightened. "They steer us towards making the right decision, categorizing the patient needing the most help and a general protectiveness and caring for those we assist."

"Times ten when the little sparklings look at us with those cute little optics...and the good design you and Wheeljack made. Nice engineering sir and if you will excuse me I am late for my energon break," he finished rapidly heading for the double med bay doors.

Ratchet regarded the quiet of his med bay and frowned. 'Am I being affected that badly? I threatened Prime but restrained. Wrenches in a box, waving arms, and making reasonable threats. I must be getting old.'

The cooker beeped, signaling the latest parts were enameled and ready for transfer to the cooling racks. He removed the tray, avoiding the hot edge and scanning for any imperfections in the tiny metal pieces. "Any more sparklings and I will remove Optimus interfacing protocols. Then again, the matrix would use its knowledge to replace them. How about removing Elita's? No, she would take my spark and painfully. I know, replace his chest transform cogs with unmoving parts. No open chests no spark merge no problem. Until the next repair. Could any commander be more difficult to work under?"

**DECEPTICON UNDERWATER BASE**

**POST BATTLE**

"Where is Megatron?" Starscream's scratchy voice demanded as he entered the command center. The red and blue stripes on his silver wings flashed as he twisted side to side glaring.

"He's not here," Skywarp grunted, intent on his programming.

"I can see that," he snapped at the purple armored seeker. "Where is he?"

"Try the wash racks," Thundercracker suggested.

"Again? What is his problem? He's been in there five times since our last battle."

"Keeping count huh? Anything we should know Screamer?" They turned, their red optics focusing on him.

"Do not mock me. I will lead the Decepticons and you will show me respect!" he shouted.

Skywarp's finger tapped the keys, triggering a hologram glyph. The Cybertronian word for respect blazed in the air between them. "There it is, RESPECT." It split into two new glyphs.

"And this is self control and the word clue as in get one." They laughed as the third of their trine nearly shook with rage before stomping out, smashing an armored fist into the side door as it slid too slowly to let his wings pass.

"He is so predictable," Skywarp chuckled, bringing up the online game connection. "Level five planet, storm troopers arriving. Ready your light saber and let's go!"

**THE ARK**

**MT ST HILLARY**

Ratchet regarded the ancient mech sitting across from him with a mixture of frustration and awe. 'Frustration at being unable to help him and Chromia and awe we are even having this conversation," he processed. Their chairs were offset yet facing each other to the side of the medical berths. Externally, his faceplates were neutral and professional as a medic should be in a patient consultation. "Two key factors to triggering the sparkling protocols during the merge are dominant and willing," he explained.

Ironhide snorted. "Mia is always willing and do I look like the spark controlled by a femme type?" He tapped his red metal fingers on the table.

"You don't control anything, including your temper. Hmm, I see your point. There is another option," his blue optics faded as they ran complicated scenarios. "No sparking or interfacing for at least an earth week and…" he began

"What?! Is your neuron cable cracked? We were apart for thousands of years and sparked endlessly for over a joor and never triggered a sparkling mffff," he stopped as a wrench slapped against his lip plates and held there.

"Let me finish or I will ram this in and out the other end," he hissed. "Now sit down lug head."

"Your bedside manner needs works Ratch," he grumbled but obeyed.

"Wait and carry the matrix. You have enough space under your armor to hold it," he instructed, leaning back into his chair.

"The Matrix of Leadership that Prime carries? Now why the flipping would I….carry…it? Is that how he and Elita?" His expression turned from admiration to one of outrage. "That sneaky bot! Made us think it was all him all over the Ark and it was the Matrix!"

"Yes he can be taught," Ratchet snickered and returned the wrench to hiding in his wrist slot.

"I don't want five sparklings! One for her and maybe a mech for me. You being honest? This ain't payback for a prank is it?"

"As much as it pains me, my only intention is helping you continue your lineage. If the Matrix does not work, we may have to have Prime there," Ratchet continued.

"Optimus is not touching my Chromia!" He snapped to his feet, the chair falling over backwards with a clatter.

"Sit down!" A silver wrench sailed through the air to smack the weapon specialist's helm. "As in be nearby when you merge holding the Matrix that opens to his touch as Prime. Spark mates cannot merge with another or they risk a back surge of power! Moreover, he would never touch a femme that was not Elita! However many throw themselves at him," he grumbled.

**AUTOBOT LEVEL FIVE**

**PERSONNEL QUARTERS – MULTI ROOM SUITES**

An hour later had Ironhide ducking thrown objects again. "Chromia! I'm serious!" Another spare weapons gun barrel followed the first. "No spark merging for awhile and we can try with the Matrix." She hefted a spare energon blade. Diving for cover, he slid out their open quarter doors into the hallway. The thrown blade sailed overhead, burying halfway into the orange metal wall. Unnoticed, the twin's door across the way slid open and two sets of blue optics peered out at the bottom edge.

"You with the Matrix of Leadership? Why?" Her angry vocal carried clearly.

"It's a power enhancer. Optimus already agreed to loan it to me for one night only. Please Chromia, consider it. It will make a difference," his tone was pleading yet firm as he crouched, ready to duck whatever came sailing out next.

"One night? After nothing for a week building up to it?"

"Two spark merges while in my chest," he stated, sneaking across to peer in their door.

"Only two merges? I want fragging and lots of it. Before, during and after. If Prime can do Elita everywhere and get sparklings I want that too," she demanded.

"Deal!" he cheered, moving back into the room. The closing door cut out their conversation.

Identical sets of blue optics stared at each other in shock before drawing back as their door shut.

**ONE WEEK LATER**

Optimus sat the oblong matrix on the table, stepping back as his chest plate armor slid inward and locked. He watched in amusement as Ironhide twitched, barely moving with his steps towards it. 'Had any bot told me Ironhide and Chromia could exist for a week separately without touching I would never have believed it. Prowl feared their bond was splitting apart and tried to arrange ways to keep them together while Bluestreak and the others feared he would get desperate enough to grab one of them.' His processor played an image of a tense Ironhide walking in a room and every mech running out, holding onto their afts in fear.

'I should have told them he finds the idea revolting. I joked once about using him for tension release and the anxiety in his optics twisted my spark. I would never have joked like that if I had known he felt that strongly. The mech that insults Megatron to his faceplates nearly shorted a compensator fearing I was going to grab him,' Optimus processed in half disgust himself.

'Fine example I set as Prime. Uphold our highest standards and I joke about abusing my power for self gratification with my closest friend. We have only ever had femmes and he wants Chromia the way I want Elita. Once he felt his first spark merge that was it, her spark sealing him for his entire existence. And Elita's for mine. Though with sparklings and attendants Elita and I haven't been alone to be romantic but we could. He couldn't. No wonder Ratchet feared him busting a gasket restraining himself this week,' he processed with a snort. Ironhide froze, optics darting to him and the Matrix as though waiting for it to attack.

"Go on, it won't bite." The ancient leader instructed calmly.

"I might it this takes any longer," Ratchet complained.

Ironhide held out his hands steady on either side of the grip handles even as his systems shuddered in fear. 'Primus let this work when we merge but not now. I flipping do not want to be a Prime now or later. Don't open, flash or do anything that makes them look my way,' he processed rapidly. Picking it up the hum remained steady as his chest plates opened. It's core blue coloring deepening as his spark showed. Lowering it into place, the Matrix hummed before quieting.

Ironhide froze as a presence weaved though him. He could not move, yell or for help or react as a force swept through his memory cores as if searching. Every instance of his life, every choice or decision weighed. And compared to what it knew. Acceptance but not approval flowed into his processors. 'It is allowing me to carry it but not as a Prime. Fair enough,' he realized, his chest panels closing slowly over it.

"And?" Optimus asked.

"Heavy for its size," he grunted, shifting his shoulder plates.

"It's a heavier burden bearing it as Prime," he quipped.

"Is that why you tripped and fell?" Ratchet teased.

"You can have it back gladly if I have to rip it out to return it," Ironhide promised. Green scan lights danced across his chest before disappearing.

Ratchet grimaced, his multi faceted optics returning to normal. "No obvious reactions or side effects. And med bay is still the best option for you to test it." He feared what could go wrong.

"Not for Chromia. We compromised to use your sleeping quarters, which doubles as a spare triage. I spend enough time in here without merging too," he grumped.

"Only place you haven't," he commented.

"Sure about that?"

"Not that I've ever seen," his optics narrowed.

Ironhide smirked before starting for the door. "That's the point. Though you are welcome to watch tonight, even join in. Chromia might like two for one," he teased.

"How about five days from now she can have two for one?" he said then smirked at their shocked expressions. "Sparkling for a mate and a sparkling in her arms. Both needing taking care of."

**LATER THAT EVENING**

In Ironhide's quarters, Ratchet folded his white armored legs and sat down against the outer wall, balancing a datapad and reports on his knee plates. At the edge of his sensors he could hear the couple in their private recharge area on the other side of the wall.

Chromia snuggled against Ironhide's square chest. "Let's give him a show shall we?"

"He has his own femme. And I'm taking mine," Ironhide growled, pulling her close.

Ratchet offlined his optics and audios, pulling up internal medical reports. A blinking signal bar indicator in the lower edge of his display indicated both the other Autobots spark signs. 'Any decrease or dangerous fluctuation and I am taking that door out. Hoist, First Aid and Wheeljack are on medical standby without knowing why. They will answer my call for assistance immediately once I tell them where. Two spark critical patients at one time, if it all goes wrong. Maybe I should have had Wheeljack here. We could review the latest designs for the sparkling shells.' The wall behind him vibrated with thumps and he grimaced, moving away from it to recline against the one by the main door. 'The things I endure to help my fellow mechs.'

**THE NEXT MORNING**

**MED BAY**

Optimus strode in through the double doors and raised an optic arch at the Matrix sitting in the middle of the medical berth. Red Alert stood nearby as though guarding it.

"Ratchet is researching medical data and instructed me to return this back to you sir," he said.

The tall red and blue mech reached for it slowly, picking it up and watching for it to react. "Was it…useful?"

"As expected. Chromia has an afternoon appointment for verification," he reported dutifully. "We will comm you the moment we know though I'm betting Ironhide will let half the planet know. And thank you for coming in so early, I wanted time to prepare and it makes me nervous. All that power and knowledge."

"I understand," he stated in his regal baritone as he left. In the hallway, the Prime's form began shimmering into a thousand sparkles light becoming Sunstreaker's yellow armored form. "Confirm what? Ironhide fragging his femme senseless? Chromia probably is coming in for repairs and grandpa bot there can brag about his stamina." An internal comm signal interrupted his musings.

::You got it bro'?:: Sideswipe

::Worked perfectly. Told you listening in would be a spark saver. Only First Aid was in med bay. I have the Matrix and a femme waiting for me in our quarters while you have guard duty. And we return it to Optimus later. None the wiser:: Sunstreaker

In his personal quarters, Ratchet vented softly as he paused by the recharge berth, one hand automatically stroking over Moonracer's chest panels. His lip plates pressed tenderly to her helm before scanning her. 'Ironhide needed it half the night; I kept it the other half. Never thought Moonracer would agree let alone be enthusiastic.' He glanced down at his armor covered with oily trans fluids, purple lubricant and blue armor paint scratches. 'Keeping how we did it a secret is essential. Every couple wanting sparklings might attack poor Optimus. Bad enough the Decepticons target his spark over it. Who knows the trouble that Matrix could cause.'

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8 Matrix and more

Author's Notes: Thanks to all you fans and here are more twists and most questions answered. And I will give one away right now. The Matrix is _not_ a power enhancer or makes mechs spark happy. There is far more going on as you are about to read. The G1 cartoon had times where Optimus and Rodimus Prime went into the Matrix and spoke to previous carriers or guardians of it. Referenced here too.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**MATRIX MADNESS AND MORE**

Only a hard packed dirt road disturbed the forest area on the edge of the Ark's designated boundaries. Engines more powerful than any earth factory could produce roared over it, simulated rubber wheels gripping and pulling the alt modes ahead effortlessly.

Ironhide snorted, the sound echoing his exhaust bursts. 'Primus I am slagging tired but after last night, I got my family to protect,' he processed then his chassis lifted a little higher, the years of war a little lighter burden to carry at the thought of the word family. His front bumper edged between the trees as the road continued its winding path. "Now where did he go?"

::Slow it up junior:: Ironhide ordered over their comm line, discerning nothing but a dust trail from the red Lamborghini two turns ahead.

:Speed it up ancient one. Need to ask Ratchet for a systems upgrade before you recharge on your tires. Or are you dreading returning to your mate? Problems between you two?:: Sideswipe slowed down, allowing him to draw closer. He knew the other mech had spent the night with Chromia and a borrowed Matrix.

"If she weren't happy I wouldn't be here. And fast or slow she ain't complained about my techniques. Let me guess, your idea of pleasure is to bang plates until you overload?" his normal edgy voice was muted in his alt form.

"Who needs technique? Endurance and energy," his vocals were smug sounding.

"And how many femmes has that worked with? As in return to interface after the first time?"

"Well, uh that is," he hesitated, letting the older warrior roll past before transforming into his bi pedal mode.

"Not many?" Ironhide guessed, transforming and comparing the area with known ambush locations.

"What else would a femme need?" He asked.

"No wonder you're a unmated spark," he chuckled, automatically checking the sky for Seekers or other surprises. Reassured, the red armored mech pulled the datapad out of his leg hatch, bringing up the report form.

"What makes you the expert? Your gun happy fighting spark mate that is always ready to interface?"

"Why do you think Chromia is so ready to go all the time? I please her and get what I want too," he smirked patting above his spark. "And I had plenty of femmes before I found her."

"She didn't mind?" His blue optics narrowed.

"She wasn't happy about it," he grimaced in memory. "After the first few got blasted into med bay they quit coming around and word spread quickly our bond was permanent. And I was the happiest mech on Cybertron."

"Never processed you the romantic type," Sideswipe admitted.

"I ain't. I specialize in weapons remember? Meaning I know my target, the best way to reach it and what happens when I hit it. Same with femmes. The right ammo fired the right way at the right time solves everything. A miss and it is your aft in the pit. They're hurt and you're in reach. You and your parts if you get my drift."

"Oh. Never processed it that way," Sideswipe admitted sheepishly.

"Why doesn't that surprise me," he muttered, reaching down and disabling the holgoram. The bush disappeared into a thousand shimmering lights, the early warning sensor array in its place. "Bet your twin ain't considered that either."

"He's more into femmes than I am. Me, I prefer a good sword over a good chassis. Less work, easier to repair and saves your aft, not works it," he admitted.

"Hmm, is that where he is now?" Ironhide asked.

"No idea. We're twin sparks not twin processors. I can link with him and..." he gave a strangled yell before his frame began to fall forward, as if it was an empty shell. Ironhide dropped the datapad, reaching and bracing.

"Sunstreaker, he's hurt, our quarters," he vented erratically, optics spinning rapidly and tightly.

"Relaying to Prime and Ratchet. They are on their way there and we are heading back to the Ark and med bay. Meet your twin there. And don't you fade out on me. Use that endurance you were bragging about."

**AUTOBOT QUARTERS**

**TWINS PRIVATE ROOMS**

**MID MORNING **

Optimus heavy tread slowed as he rounded the corner, seeing Ratchet racing in from the other direction. "Door override, Prime Alpha Nine Two Four," he stated. Teletran heard and overrode the door locks, sliding it open.

Two steps inside and he knelt, turning the yellow mech over onto his back plates. "Energy charge," he noted the distinctive charring on his armor as Ratchet kneeled, already scanning.

"Look around for it."

"What am I looking for?"

"Anything from a toy to a removed weapons charger pack. Twins are notorious for pranks and altering what they need," he grumbled, manually lifting up his center plating. "Need to know how powerful it was. Quicker to find it than scan every neural connection in his protoform. Spark is intact and stabilizing his systems now."

Optimus glanced around, seeing nothing obvious. Crouching, he knelt on hands and knee plates and saw a tan bar wedged under the couch like seating. Reaching, he nearly dropped it in shock as the Matrix of Leadership slid into his hand. He switched from concerned friend to Prime in one astro second, picking it up and communing with it. "Sunstreaker tried to force it open and it rejected him."

"Why and how did he?" Ratchet began, resealing the mech's yellow armor.

"Unknown but he was lucky. It could have offlined him," he stated, opening his own chest plates to return it to its normal holding.

"Slag near did. Be a week to replace fried parts. Transform sequencer, subspace pullers and battle computers are all down. Power breakers saved the equipment but not the connections. He is going to owe me for this," the medic grumbled as Optimus picked Sunstreaker up.

"He owes an explanation and it better be a good one," the ancient Prime added. "Or more than his connections will be fried."

**MED BAY**

**LATE AFTERNOON**

"I do have one question," First Aid stated then waited for his boss' reaction. He would disregard it and assign a task, answer with a sarcastic comment or teach in one sentence what a hundred medical datapads could not.

"Which is?" He continued replacing blown neruon fittings in Sunstreaker's leg. Sideswipe recharged on the other medical berth nearby, resting until his twin could pull out of stasis.

"Why no fragging or merging for Ironhide and Chromia for a week?"

"I had to be sure he could control himself that way. A sparkling will not understand yelling, anger or lack of attention. They cannot duck, fight back or move quick enough to escape hurt. Ironhide proved he is willing to sacrifice for love," Ratchet explained tossing blackened plugs into the nearby trash container.

"Thereby proving he could raise a sparkling?"

"In a roundabout way yes. As Chief Medical Officer, their existence is my responsibility too. I would never terminate a sparkling but one real danger and I would not hesitate to stasis lock either parental unit. Or to remove the sparkling from their care or rather lack of. Locked in med bay here with us is better than repairing a dent in their tiny shells."

"You would do that?" His assistant seemed truly shocked.

"We are required to do what is best for our patients. Regardless of size or age or our personal feelings in the matter," he affirmed.

**PRIME'S OFFICE**

Optimus tapped his chest plating, frowning as he felt the Matrix shift above his spark. Working in his office, his desk was covered with datapads and file chips. Several reports waited in his holding que, the top most marked urgent. He concentrated on finishing that one first. Typing on the datapad became a distraction as the invisible sensations continued. 'When did Prime mean spark sitting errant twins and ancient history?' he processed then pushed his work away. Relaxing, he reached to communicate with it. Its gentle humming became a roar as the room went black.

"Where am I?" He felt nothing, heard or saw yet knew there was no danger.

"You have been here before," a familiar ancient tenor vocal stated. The light began reaching around him, revealing a Cybertronian workshop from his memories.

"Alpha Trion?"

"Yes Orion. You are not offline but held between your existence and with those who have gone on before," his purple and red form solidified out of the air.

"Why am I here?" He glanced down, seeing his old red protoform arms and hands, bare of military grade armor.

"We needed to explain our actions," Alpha Trion stated as other mechs solidified in a loose semi circle. Each had a different background that intertwined on the edges with the ones next to them.

"You have not fulfilled all of your duties as Prime. You lead and command but do not continue your destiny. It cannot end with you," the tall red armored mech said. His design was square and shorter indicating his existence before the war years. Behind him golden towers reached for the sky, Transformer couples walking among metal sculptures. None had symbols marking them as Autobot or Decepticon.

"Our race must have a future," a spindly green mech stated, his arms ending in multi digit tools. His background lacked definition, dark and sparse as though uninhabited.

"Sparklings now that you are finally willing to produce them," Alpha Trion explained.

"I wanted a sparkling with the skills of a teacher," the blue round mech declared, his optics narrow and thin. The ruins of Praxus surrounded him, his armor shifting from blue to slagged and ruined back to blue.

"I wanted a skilled artist to inspire with words and colors," the tall red mech stated. His background was obviously a moon station, the golden world of Cybertron rotating in a far window.

"Architect to rebuild and expand," the tallest silver mech stated, his face spindles moving as though in a wind. White light surrounded him without showing details.

"Historian to record our culture without human interference so in times of peace we may forget the war," the smallest black mech stated. Then they all went quiet, optics looking anywhere but at him.

"And?" he prompted.

Alpha Trion moved closer and faced him squarely. "We could not reach a consensus. One sparkling could not contain all that is needed. Then a proposed solution achieved what we wanted and we waited. You and your mates were ready for a sparkling, without triggering the necessary protocols. Then you overheard Elita and your desire for her happiness provided the opportunity. The eight agreed upon skills answered in the first eight sparklings with more to come."

"Chromia is an enthusiastic femme," the blue round mech stated.

"Moonracer pleasing and inventive in her sparking methods," the spindly green mech said.

Optimus vented, his lip plates moving without a sound coming out. His systems roared, battle computers engaging as his cooing fans went into overdrive. "You…you….interfered…watched!"

"The merges were only your two sparks, mech and femme," Alpha Trion reassured. "First merge provided power and strength for multiple sparklings. We added coding for specific talents during the second merges. Yes, to you and Elita both instances. Chromia with Ironhide and Ratchet with Moonracer. Sunstreaker's intent was unknown to us but her protocols were willing. An addition to your own choices based on our collective knowledge."

"Addition? Addition! You perverted voyeuristic….GET YOUR OWN FEMMES!" Optimus roared.

"Your femmes were never endangered," Alpha Trion argued. "We waited until you willingly merged with your mates. We could have created a sparkling anytime in the last thousand years and chose not to. The desire for a new life had to be there in both partners. If one had been willing, but unmated that would be different."

"I'm willing... to take you all on! Worthelss piles of scraps!" He raged, turning and unable to decide which one to attack first.

They recoiled visibly from his anger, going wispy in their forms. "I think your time here is overtaxing your systems. Return to the physical world," Alpha Trion stated. Optimus fist punched through his purple and silver armored faceplates and out the other side as his ethereal form drifted away. Darkness spun to wrap around the light. Falling, he never felt the landing, only a tapping on his helm. His optics onlined to Prowl's black and white armored faceplates hovering mere inches from his own.

"YAAAHH!"

"Easy sir!" Prowl reared back while kneeling. "You're safe. Ratchet and Wheeljack are on their way. We had a scheduled review and I found you on the floor. Your optics were offline but your systems in standby. Are you alright? Do you need help?"

He nodded, raising both hands to pull at his chest plates as they slowly opened.

"Uh sir? What are you doing?" Prowl scooted back, one white armored arm instinctively crossing across his own chest plates as he averted his optics.

"The Matrix…must go," Optimus reached in, pulling at it weakly.

"Let me sir," Prowl stated, grabbing it firmly and pulling. It hummed, wobbling as though trying to stay. The Second in Command may not have understood what was happening but he would obey. He yanked harder to free it, taking a step back. The door slid open as the arriving mechs slid to a halt at the scene. Optimus on the floor, chest panels open as Prowl stood over him holding the Matrix in his white armored hands.

"Prime? Prowl? Is there a problem?" Ratchet began shifting his fingers to a tranquilizer unit as a precaution and moved closer to his leader even as his defensive systems targeted the other mech.

They both started to speak when the Matrix flashed the room in blue as though taking a surprise photo, throwing raw power outward. They turned their heads, optics shuttering for protection as arms rose to block and protect. A thump rattled the metal flooring under them.

"Prime? Answer me!" Wheeljack yelled first.

"Functional. Ratchet?" His regal baritone was weak and faint.

"Here but blinded. Same slagging frequency as my enhanced vision. Need to reset. What happened?" His angry tone covered his fear of not being able to see.

"The ancient Primes in the Matrix have been interfering. They are the reason we have sparklings by the cube full and I am willing to bet they were the flash. Question is, what did they do now?" Optimus growled. "Prowl? Is the matrix closed or opened? Prowl?" He shuttered his optics, straining to see through blue spots in his vision. Shifting, his outstretched hand met hardened metal. Peering, he discerned white and black armor. The closed Matrix rested on the floor alongside his prone form, silent and still.

It took a full minute for their vision to clear and another for Ratchet to regain his enhanced medical scanning capability.

"Why does he look surprised?" Ratchet muttered beginning to scan Prowl. The hum of his engine choked in and out as he scanned again. Optics wide he asked the last question they would have thought of. "Where any of the ancient Primes a femme?"

"One so long ago she is more legend than fact. B3 who became Beta, the first of the femme warrior line. She was one of the original thirteen warriors who rebelled and freed our race from the Quintessons. No evidence of her exists beyond the historical tales," Optimus confirmed.

"Add more to her tale. Prowl is carrying a spark," he held out his hand, displaying medical codes in a holographic image.

"Of course he is or he'd be offline otherwise…" Wheeljack started then vented, his optics going wide as he read the display data. His side bars flashed a rainbow of colors.

"I'm the boss, need the info," Optimus reminded as the medical coding meant nothing to him.

"That femme Prime tagged him. There's a sparkling essence forming to the right of his spark," Wheeljack noted in shock.

"And we need to find a femme here and now to transfer it to fast or his system will reject it," Ratchet slid his armored arms under him and lifted the smaller mech into their leader's arms. "Med bay stat. Go gently and I will meet you there," he ordered before transforming and racing off.

"What about the Matrix?" Wheeljack stared at it.

"Leave it," he ordered, moving towards the door.

"Is that safe?"

"For now. I will deal with them later," he ground out, stepping sideways through the door with the smaller mech in his arms.

Five minutes later, Bumblebee rolled up transforming and smiling. "Optimus? Sorry I am late for my review. I was needed to double check readings on the surveillance net and Optimus? Any bot here?" the young scout trailed off as he realized the office was empty. On the floor, the matrix hummed.

_To be continued…_

_NEXT: Sunstreaker learns more about being a parental mech in a room full of sparklings and Optimus and Elita go for a drive to get away and end up rolling around, and not on their wheels either._


	9. Chapter 9 Rolling and Revving

Author's Notes: Another chapter another fun romp. I hadn't planned this many chapters this quickly but the plot is there. Pleaes review and let me know what you like or what you don't.

Warning: Interfacing between Elita and Optimus. Otherwise play on words and your first guess not being the right one. NExt chapter will be cleaner and more fun.

**CHAPTER NINE**

**ROLLING AND ROCKING**

:: 'Lita light of my spark, where are you?:: Optimus left med bay, rubbing at the neuro sensor pinging in his helm, the equivalent of a Transformer headache. His red frame moved steadily if slowly towards the elevator.

::About to go under the waterfall. I have one more piece of external armor to remove off my protoform before I do. Wash racks were full and I so wanted to feel the water cascading down my front armor and across my legs:: Elita

'Armor...remove... front?' he processed, his system racing at the image, his frame stopping in the middle of the hallway. A hungry look formed across his faceplates. Hound and Cliffjumper passed by, discussing perimeter weaknesses before giving him an odd look and continuing on walking. ::Wait, what waterfall?::

::There isn't one silly. Wanted to get your attention. I am heading for the lake and could use some company. Interested?:: Elita sent, her vocal tone seductive.

::Alas, reports, rule and a problem waits in my office. I would if I could but duty calls:: Optimus sent, thinking of the matrix he left lying on the floor.

::I am calling louder. Pulled out of recharge revving and thought racing in my alt mode would ease me off. Left the sparklings with the sitters. They were delighted to get extra time in. I have circled the ark perimeter three times and now I am hot, revved and a little dusty. Come frag me before I grab the next mech that comes by for relief:: Elita

::I am clearing my schedule now. Hold:: Optimus sent while routing the patrolling mechs into a different section of the perimeter. ::Need to confirm Prowl's status with Ratchet then I am rolling::

::Prowl? What happened? Logic glitch knock him down again?:: Elita

::Glitch yes, logical no and knocked up. Explain later:: Optimus sent, transforming to his alt mode.

Fifteen minutes later the racing red semi slowed, transforming up into his bi pedal mode as she waited by the lake.

Optimus grabbed her close, pressing his lip plates firmly on hers. His hands moved to rove across her pink chest armor and grasping across her white abdomen plates. One hand slid down between her legs to rub on her center plating.

"Wait…what about… sparklings?" she vented, pushing against his touch.

"Dumped the matrix. It's all me," he purred, removing her plate cover before stepping back. "Spread them very wide dearest," he asked while sitting down and removing his crotch plate. "Then don't move for a minute please." Her legs slid out to the sides into a very wide stance.

"Okay, not moving. What are you doing?" She bent over to look him in the optics as he lay out on the ground on his back plates. He scooted side to side for a moment to angle directly under her.

"This," he smirked, reaching up suddenly and hitting the hollows behind her knee plates with his fists, bending her naturally at those joints to literally sit on his face. Her upper chassis fell forward, catching and bracing with her hands. He laughed, the rumbling sound muffled against her outer valve. His hands gripped her waist, keeping her from escaping.

"Stay. I want to pleasure you this way."

"You sure?" She tilted her head to look upside down at him.

"It is my second favorite part of you, and always a good view" he quipped, smacking his jaw gears together below her valve.

"What's the first?"

"Your spark," he smiled then lowered her further, nipping across her centerline. Gasping, she arched her neuro spine and pressed downward. Rumbling with laughter, his vibrations heating her insides. He slid a hand down her aft, cupping it before snaking it around to her inner leg and upward. Fingers rubbed, smearing the seeping lubricant. 'My face is probably a purple spotted mess,' he processed. 'Now for the latest surprise.' His first two fingers locked together, the hydraulic motion motor at the base ratcheting to combine with an added gear assembly.

"What's…noise?" She vented, squirming as her passion built.

"A sound to be drowned out by your screams," he chuckled, thrusting into her valve with those fingers. He pressed them deeply inside then triggered the gears.

"Ahhhhh…ohhhh," her entire chassis tightened as he vibrated in her core. Thrusting in and out, his hand shook and hummed as her valve tightened hotly.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She collapsed, her upper body resting on the dirt. Moaning and writhing she stayed online but barely. He chuckled, lifting her to slid down his hips to be face plate to face plate with her. He began talking, keeping her focused as his interface rod hardened.

"You hate anything but me in your valve, interfacing toys included. Then it occurred to me they were unnecessary if I borrowed the designs," he held up his hand, the fingers vibrating enough for her to see them moving.

"You made your hand into?" she murmured.

"Uh huh. I'll use it sparingly," he promised, lip plates moving over her neck cables.

"No, don't," she vented, wiping at her faceplates to remove the dust, missing his look of hurt for a moment before assuming a neutral expression. "Use it all you want. That was incredible. Tipped me right over. Any other surprises?"

"Two more but not yet," he smiled at her, delighted as an item from phase III was finally usable.

"I hate to say this," she slid off him to sit in the dirt. "Can you do me again?"

"Already? You are revved and too wound to merge. Interface only for now. And you never need to ask. I will always desire you," he reassured as his rod pulsed ready. She shifted to balance on her hands and knee plates. "I thought you didn't like this position."

"Normally no. You drive deep and I cannot touch you, only rock with the force. But I want you banging my plates. I'm revving and I want!" she wiggled her pink armored aft, purple lubricant dripping from her softened valve. He lunged ahead, his hands slapping down over hers as he covered her frame with his massive red and blue one. Aligning his interface rod with her valve, he rocked back then drove in deep.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH," screaming, arching against him she responded. Sliding almost the entire way out, he swirled his hips teasing her inner valve with his size before plunging in deeply again. Rocking, he thrust in and out, faster and faster banging her plates. As fast as he could, he rocked her until she shook to rattle her armor loose. They overloaded together, Elita offlining to fall into the dirt and off his softening interface rod. He struggled to shift sideways, falling alongside to keep from crushing her with his weight. He offlined before the dust settled.

::Prime answer me!:: Ratchet growled, his medical command signal dragging him out of bliss. He onlined his optics, seeing blue sky and white fluffy clouds instead of his medic.

::Ratchet?::Optimus answered groggily.

::Why do you sound like that? Are you fragging Elita again? What the #$%^#% are you? An overdriven hotwired smex bot! Do you care how many sparklings you create? The dents and paint smears I have to clean up off you both? I'm a medic not a interface repair bot!:: Ratchet raved.

He reached a silver armored hand to stroke Elita's helm lovingly before rapping their code on her helm. She onlined with a gasp, reaching and grabbing. Moaning, she held tightly to him as the last of their interfacing energy faded.

::Jealous old friend? Borrow the matrix and find Moonracer. I left it in my office remember?:: Optimus retorted. Silence lasted long enough he thought the line had disconnected.

::Already did. Moonracer is carrying two sparks, both femmes. Mine:: Ratchet

::You old sneak! Good for you and Moonracer:: Optimus relayed the information to Elita, linking her into the comm signal.

:: Chromia has three sparklings around her spark from Ironhide, Beta agreed to accept the transfer spark. And before you ask, she is not a direct descendant of Beta the femme Prime. Our Beta's parental femme was adopted into the Beta clan, the eight femme to carry that name and she is the ninth. Prowl is resting and should make a complete recovery. He did ask for full rights over the sparkling:: Ratchet

::That's a surprise:: Optimus raised an optic arch.

::The surprise is the two sparklings the other femme is carrying via Sunstreaker. The matrix fried his connections after they merged and she left for the wash racks, missing the attack:: Ratchet stated.

::How did you find that out?::

::I did him:: Ratchet

::You what?:: Optimus sputtered, his processor spinning.

::DID Data Intercore Download into the med bay diagnostic computer. Standard procedure for any unknown surge to a mech's processors. Finally able to show First Aid how to access the safety overrides. Sunstreaker lost the last bar of memory core but her identity remained in the previous data bar. What the slag did you think I meant?: Ratchet challenged, his mental tone a growl.

::Sunstreaker is going to be a parental mech?:: Elita

::Only in the brig::Optimus

:: I have a better idea once he can leave med bay:: Elita's tone sent shivers through the mechs.

**THE ARK**

Optimus stared at the empty space that was his office floor, Elita having left to check on their sparklings in the recreation room. A note in the center of his desk caught his optics. "_Found what you lost, Bumblebee_." He vented hard, closing his optics as dread washed over his systems.

::Bumblebee? What happened when you showed up for your review?:: Optimus sent to him alone.

::I found the matrix on the floor and picked it up:: The young scout answered, the bewilderment clear in his tone.

::Did it do anything? Flash, open or its power touch you in any way?:: Optimus asked, his entire system holding for the answer.

::Noooooooo:: Bumblebee drawled out. ::I'm not a Prime. It could have been a datapad or spare cleaner cloth I picked up. No reaction at all::

::Please bring it back to me:: Optimus vented in relief.

::I don't have it. I gave it to Ultra Magnus. He was heading to the command center. I could not carry it under my armor, too big as a mini bot. He is next in command with Prowl down. Jazz is on a mission and Ironhide is with Chromia:: Bumblebee sent.

::You did fine. Prime to Ultra Magnus, answer please:: Optimus switched frequencies.

::Yes brother of mine?:: Magnus answered, his tone content and almost smug sounding.

::Do you have the Matrix?:: Optimus

::Not at the moment. I gave it to Hot Rod to return to you. I was done with it:: Magnus chuckled, placing the line on hold before returning. ::Ask him. I'm heading to the wash racks in a breem::

::What were you doing?:: Optimus

::None of your business. Commander stuff:: Magnus replied. The ancient Prime frowned, pulling up shipboard schematics to pinpoint his location. The search beacon roamed the ship level by level until it stopped at the personnel quarters. "In his room?" he mumbled then sagged, head bowed. "He's in a femme's quarters. And why that femme?" His hands curled around his desk edge, leaving crease marks.

::Hot Rod do you have the Matrix?:: Optimus wearily asked.

::No, it should be in med bay. Gave it to First Aid as its humming made me nervous. You really should not leave something like that lying around sir. Anything could happen to it::: Hot Rod

::I am more afraid what could happen to us:: Optimus rumbled closing the line and switching to med bay.

::First Aid do you have the Matrix?:: Optimus

::No sir:: First Aid

Optimus whimpered, barely resisting the urge to beat his helm on the nearest wall. Repeatedly. Then the medical assistant continued.

::Its sealed in the emergency spark chamber. It can hold all unstable or known energies. Come get it when you want:: First Aid

**AUTOBOT MED BAY**

**ONE HOUR LATER**

Optimus closed his armored chest plates before turning around to face Ratchet and First Aid. It hummed strongly in his chest, vibrating his spark spires. The image of Elita appeared across his optics and he verbally bit at it. 'No more sparklings you! You do not have to feed them, train them or change their tanks. Or protect them when an attack happens. We have suffered enough without losing one of them.'

Images of the other Autobots flowed across his vision.

'I lead them into battle for the survival of our race not to make them spark sitters.'

Cybertronian language glyphs appeared including family, future and renew.

'Elita is not the mother of Cybertron you old junk heaps of interference. Keep it up and I will drop the Matrix and all of you in the deepest volcanic crater on Dinobot Island,' he both threatened and promised. It quieted, returning to being a dormant piece of metal inside his parts.

_To be continued..._

_NEXT: Sunstreaker meets the sparklings and tries feeding and holding one. And the Dinobots get to guard the Matrix. They have no sparks so no problems right ? "Not necessarily," Wheeljack began. "There is something you need to know..."_


	10. Chapter 10 Learning new things

Author's Notes: This chapter is dedicated to all my fans and especially two fellow writers. Phoenix13 and her wonderful fics. Fun via Ultra Magnus and his new femme just for you, and to fantasyaddict101 and her love of plot bunnies.

Firestorm is an OC - Original character name I created. I was a volunteer firefighter and EMT for seven years and plan to return to it. Names with fire and light intrigue me. I am unaware of its use anywhere else in a TF fic and **am NOT meaning to copy** anyone if it is. Same for Silverlight and Nightblaze. They are Transformer sounding femme names.

Thanks to fellow writer hummergrey for the idea to help identify the sparklings, on each right arm is painted a color stripe to show their parentage in some way. Red and blue for Prime and Elita's, white with red for Moonracer and Ratchet and gold and black for Chromia and Ironhide's etc.

**CHAPTER TEN**

**THROWING OUT THE PAST**

Inside Prime's office, the two mech's began their daily workload of sorting data chip reports and activating datapads.

"I cannot believe you were in Firestorm's quarters. Her designation is warning enough," Optimus arranged the piles with infinite patience and practice across his desktop. His twenty eight foot plus height allowed him to reach the entire desktop side to side.

"She picked that name because there was a forest fire the day she landed on earth. All the colors, the furiousness of that fire consuming the area had her enthralled. Passion and power rev her engines," Ultra Magnus smirked, scattering his piles for quicker searching.

"So why does she like you again?" he teased, pretending to be baffled as he sat down.

"Real funny coming from the mech that chased and caught Silverlight," the taller mech waggled a finger at his half-brother.

"That was before I ever met Elita," he answered archly while tapping his passwords into the main screens.

"Uh huh. However, chase is the wrong word. Hmm, what describes you trussed up like a turbo fox hands and feet pads to a berth and offlined from her wild interfacing techniques? And I did not find you until midday, red lined energy and traces of both your fluids around the entire room. On the berth, the broken pieces of the chair and the knocked over table. What would you call that?"

"Blackmail," his blue optics narrowed, a steeliness underlying his vocal tones.

"Relax," Magnus chuckled. "I'm just tweaking your energon links. Silverlight was a onetime excess overcharge of high grade. You were offline before she trussed you up to keep you from moving until your stabilizers reset. But the room damage occurred before that. You did always did know how to handle a femme, just not the furniture."

" True and that was the second to last time I overcharged on high grade," he admitted.

"What happened the last time?"

"If I still had that memory core accessible I would tell you," he teased.

"That overcharged huh?" Magnus grinned.

"And you with Firestorm? Is it serious?"

"I'm willing to try for a spark lock and we have discussed the possibility should it occur. Otherwise interfaces when we need and a couple of merges," he admitted.

"Merges with the Matrix under your chest plates," Optimus pointed out dryly, savoring the surprise he was about to announce.

"It remained safe with us and I can't open or use it while you are our last living Prime."

"Sure about that? Ratchet scanned its' residual energy pattern over your spark spires this morning," he said.

"Residual is not the same as it lighting our darkest hour. Why? What do you know?" The larger mech leaned on his elbow plates, fixing on him with both optics.

"Me? Why would I know anything?" He pretended to be very interested in the datapad report sitting in front of him.

"Out with it," he tapped a massive stubby metal finger on the desktop.

"Firestorm is carrying two femme sparklings essences of which you are the mech half," he smiled, his lip plates widening as the other mech dropped his jaw gears. "Any mech carrying the Matrix in a merge produces sparklings even if not spark mated to said femme." He savored his blank look and rapid venting. His own processing's were merry. 'Oh this is going to be good once I discuss birthing schedules, sparklings checkups and time to spend with her discussing who their guardian relief is.'

"I can't handle this," he gasped out, optics wide.

"Deal with it Magnus. You play you stay in their lives. Besides the names will be easy. Ultra Sparks, Ember Magnus, Hotspot and Smokey are cute sparkling names," Optimus chuckled.

**MED BAY**

"There are not enough joors in a cycle for this," Ratchet grumbled. His white armored form sat hunched over the datapad while adjusting schedule times. First Aid smiled, knowing the lack of flying wrenches meant frustration but no real problems.

"First joor tomorrow we have Elita and her sparklings. Do her femme exam first? No, on second processing, let the others bring in her sparklings for their weekly check-up while she stays. They leave with the screaming little terrors then I do her exam."

"Are weekly checkups on the sparklings really necessary?" the red and white medical assistant asked.

"Their health can change in an astro second. You know that. Limited nannites and their self-repair is almost nonexistent. We cannot even fit a decent medical sensor, cooling fan or reporting array in their tiny frames. They do not have the experiences to know when they are coming down with a coding virus or gear failure. They hunger, cry and need tanks flushed. What am I suppose to ask? One coo for yes and two gurgles for no? They are fragile without protoform armor or weapons or alt modes."

"We all know that. Your uploads on medical symptoms and procedures were thorough and complete as well as a requirement for every member of this crew sir," he stated.

"Knowing and receiving a data load are two different things," he reminded, his multi faceted optics spinning rapidly.

"Two hundred credits says a certain yellow twin is learning that about now."

**AUTOBOT RECREATION AREA**

**SPARKLING DAY TIME PLAY AREA**

Sunstreaker faced the doors and stopped. 'Get it together. You are a warrior, armed to the frame and trained. Combat experience by the slagging core full and you can handle this encounter. Compensators on, safeties engaged and systems hot.' He raised a yellow armored hand and keyed the control pad, the barest shaking of his inner cable betraying nervousness.

The recreation doors slid open, the sounds of femmes laughing and sparkling cries drifting out. "Over here mech!" Jazz gestured, one arm cradling a sparkling as though the tiny shape was his own. The rounded head and smaller midriff indicated a femme even as the red and blue arm painted arm band designated it one of Prime's and Elita's.

"Glad you could make it Sunstreaker. Bootes and Volus, say hi sweeties," Elita nodded his direction, each arm cradling one of her sparklings with the painted arm stripes.

"Ready for your first day of sparkling basics 101? Meet Delphinus and Andromeda," Hound greeted him jauntily, his green armored arms holding two more of Prime and Elita's offspring.

"These three with gold and black rings are ours," Chromia pointed at the two mech and femme sparkling crawling around inside a force field play area. "Bearden! Ferrice! No! We do not put our lip plates on our toys. Let go Bearden!" She reached and quickly engaged in a tug of war with the little mech.

"Following orders for once?" Prowl quipped, stepping around Sunstreaker while holding a femme sparkling. The black and white mech grabbed an energon bottle out of the multi holder and held it for the sparkling to recognize. She waved her stubby arms, gurgling as her optics nearly crossed looking at it. "My beautiful Mira," he murmured, watching her optics half close as she sucked the blue liquid down. Her arm band was white and black. The same coloring as the weapons holster on his leg carrying his blaster openly.

"Her full name is Mirabelle, means of wondrous beauty. I'd back away if I were you. He's pretty protective of her," Beta suggested softly, holding two sparklings with red and blue arm bands. "Two more of Primes, Aquila and Savita."

"Savita?"

"Means best in the universe," Elita explained. "Prime chose it."

Sunstreaker optics shuttered rapidly, observing the room's occupants. "I thought Ultra Magnus would be here."

"Tomorrow. He is…..recovering from the shock. Firestorm is with him," she said.

"Ha! The shock is first time he has to flush tanks and see one get its first code protective upload," Chromia added, handing energon bottles to her three.

"I need to sit down," he muttered.

"Tighten that cable soldier," Elita commanded. "You are here to learn to handle your situation not slag off. You stare into these optics," she nodded down at the tiny beings she held. "And tell me if you can walk off and let them cry themselves into recharge, see them hungry or needing your touch and not getting it and feel like a warrior mech. Nightblaze is committed to being a parental unit to the sparklings your merge created. Are you?"

He vented, opening his lip plates to snap an answer then realized every adult optic focused on him. He held out his hands wordlessly, understanding the lesson he never thought he would need to learn. "How do I take care of one?"

Jazz held out Lyra, transferring her gently into his armored hands.

"Feeding first as they need that the most, grab a bottle from the holder," Chromia suggested.

The sparkling cooed at him, tiny blue optics wide as he held the bottle near its mouth. "How do you make her drink?"

The others laughed, making various expressions of disbelief. "You don't make a sparkling do anything, lesson one. Let her pull on the end and draw the fluid slowly."

She sucked it in. 'This ain't that hard,' he processed.

"Slow it down, not a chugging contest for you and your twin. One or two air bubbles mixed in and," Jazz started to explain when Sunstreaker interrupted.

"I hold her and tap her to bring the bubble up through the fuel line, big deal," he pulled the bottle away, and shifted her to demonstrate.

"I wouldn't do that," Elita warned.

BLEECH!

Roars of laughter broke out across the room at his expression as the thrown up energon dripped down his face plates.

"Their lines are tiny and incapable of sealing over the energon tank," Chromia stated. "Second shell sparkling or third shell younglings release the air not these kids."

Wordlessly, he handed the femme to Jazz and began wiping with the offered cleanser cloth. He stopped, optics spinning wide as the little one cried. "Should I call Ratchet? The energon didn't back burn her lines?"

"Easy mech," Jazz said.

"Energon is diluted and she didn't have it long enough to begin converting," Hound explained.

"I have an appointment I need to keep. Be back later," Elita stated, laying her two sparklings onto the mini recharge berths set up where the viewing couch use to be. "And Sunstreaker?"

"Yes?"

"Every new parent gets covered. Be glad it's only a few drops. By the time of their third shell they can really cover you when they purge," she warned going out the door.

**PRIME'S OFFICE**

**FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER**

"Any handsome red and blue mechs present?" Elita's vocals drifted in through the doorway.

"Sorry, Ultra Magnus is in his quarters, just us Primes here," he quipped back, looking up as her pink and white armored form moved into sight.

"How about well endowed?" she teased back, her blue optics sparkling with delight as the memory core replayed an office visit from before that left her gasping and offlining.

"That would be me," he smirked, gesturing her to walk into the office.

She walked all the way to his side, swinging the chair around to brace her hands on his shoulders. "Well built is more like it. Adding parts to that endowment."

"All Cybertronian mechs are built with parts and upgraded," he teased, running his blue armored hands down her sides and up across her front armor. "One problem. I had to promise Ratchet I would not spark merge or interface with you in my office, our quarters, anywhere inside the ark, outside or anywhere on earth or Cybertron that I have authority over until he medically clears us both from residual matrix energy," he admitted. "I am bound to my word."

"He made you promise that?"Her optics widened.

"Eight sparklings later and every birthing makes you suffer a little. I can't keep watching you go through that," he leaned his helm against her front. "I promised for you and to keep my lip plates to myself and off your valve. The Matrix is locked in the wall vault and Ratchet examines us both tomorrow and we are free of his demands. Today, I know a way around my promise," he smirked, reaching down to remove her center plating. "Up you go," he lifted her onto his desk, one hand pushing lightly on her chest to lay her back. He raised her legs to his shoulder plates and let them rest there. He raised his hand, the first fingers locking together and vibrating. "You did say I could use this again."

"You're going to overload me by touch only?" She smiled, already restless in her hip plates for his touch.

"Only if you return the favor," he gestured down towards his cod plate.

"Return and one up you. He did specify my valve right? Not my rear port?'

"Not the same. It's only for purging your tanks and does not have the sensor valves to excite you," he shook his head.

"You sure about that? Take me from behind and happen to miss it and hit my valve instead?"

"I promised him as a Prime," he vented unhappily, stroking her outer valve edge with his other hand.

"The exact words were in your office, our quarters or anywhere else on the ship you have authority right?" She slid away from him, sitting up and closing her legs to balance on the far edge of the huge metal desk.

"Yes? Why? And I was enjoying that view," he pouted.

"Come with me, I have an idea. Let me check," her optics dimmed then brightened. "Its empty come on." In one motion she grabbed her center panel and snapped it on before hopping off the desk and out the door.

"Where are we going?" He jogged down the hallway, staying within distance of her fast moving chassis. She stopped before the elevator and waited.

"Name a place where you have no authority as Prime when you are in need of its services and the mech in charge of that area is not you," she teasingly ran fingers down his glass front and wiggled them under his grill before stepping back as the elevator door opened.

"Ugh, you are tempting my self control. Med bay when I need repairs and Ratchet rules it?"

"Close but not for my tastes. Try again you naughty mech."

He processed, trying to guess then realized her wording. "Naughty? The brig." The elevator stopped, the doors opening to the lower level. Rock walls showed where the bent edge of the ship stopped and the dormant volcano began. They hustled down the stone corridor to the brig main door, Prime's energy signature unlocking it.

She hopped through first, pointing at the four empty cells. "Large heavy berth that is firmly attached, room to maneuver or roll or any position you desire." A quick grab swung the first cell door open. Her center plate was off and tossed onto the recharge berth to be joined by his cod plate a second later. She leaned against the edge of the berth facing the wall, hands braced on its top and legs wide. "I've been a bad femme. Tempting a poor Prime with disobeying. Better check me for hidden dangers," she wiggled her pink armored aft side to side.

In two steps he was hard against her, arms holding her tight to his chassis. His left hand roamed across her chest plates while the other moved down her abdomen and outer hip plates. "Your dangers are apparent," he murmured, biting at her neck cables and across her shoulder armor seam. "Deep blue optics to lure a mech in, well built protoform with tight armor," he bucked his hips against hers. "Soft pink color as though innocent," his interface rod extended and hardened. "Luring in innocent mechs to their doom."

"My valve is not doom but pleasure," she giggled while revving under his touch. Unnoticed, their brig door clicked close with all safeties and locks engaging.

"Pleasure no other may touch," he rumbled, running his fingers through the warm lubricant on her valve edge. "You are mine and I take what is mine," his hand slid around her front as he thrust in, his rod pushing deep as she struggled. Her heat already building as the silken walls closed around his hardness.

"Ahhhhh, more Orion, I need more," her hands scrabbled at the bunk edging as he hilted then began thrusting.

_To be continued..._

_NEXT: Finally the Dinobots appear._


	11. Chapter 11 Of femmes and Dinobots

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Ironhide's sparkling names Ferrice and Bearden are technical terms related to the word Iron. A word play on his name for the first two. Third sparkling name not mentioned yet. Solaray is another OC femme. A Cybertron code writer that wants more than the war.

This just keeps going and going like Prime and Elita merging. Next chapter is half written at almost four pages already. Breem is 8.3 minutes.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**REVEALING OF SPARKS**

**AUTOBOT BRIG**

**HALF A JOOR LATER (THREE HOURS)**

Optimus pulled out of recharge, medical sensors flashing warnings and self-repair running on full. Onlining his optics, he stared at the rough stone ceiling trying to identify it. Balance compensators registered he was flat on his back plates. Turning his head, he saw stonewalls and the support bars of a recharge berth. A single pink and white armored arm dangled off it, the rest beyond his view range from the floor.

Content and warm through his protoform, he rose to a sitting position and smirked at his femme. She recharged on her side, the arm dangling off the berth as the other rested across her chest plates. 'Four interfaces, two merges and no matrix. What could be more perfect?' he processed, kneeling and touching his lip plates to hers. He chuckled softly at the amount of trans oil, lubricant and paint smears marking them both. "Should bring her energon and I know where Prowl keeps it for prisoners.' Rising to his feet pads, he stretched, cables stiff and needing adjustment.

Tugging on the metal bars the brig cell door never moved. He grabbed it with both hands, arm cables straining as it stayed close. Silently his rifle slid out of subspace and onto his back. One grab had it aimed and the trigger pulled. Bzzt. Bzzt sounded again as he pulled the trigger. A quick internal check of his systems confirmed the worse.

"Pit! Rotten auto engaging mech of arrggh!" swearing and returning the rifle to subspace, he vented, staring at the bars.

"Your aft is a mess," Elita commented softly.

Turning around, he pretended to be offended. "A mess? I think not. Femmes love my blue aft and would gladly clean and polish it," he stated haughtily.

"As long as they don't put anything on or against it to get it messy," she half growled, stretching tight cables and shuttering her optics against the light. The sight of her mid stretch warmed his interior further but not enough to harden him.

"Speaking of against, the cell door is locked."

"Blast it with your rifle. You have to approve all repairs anyways," she shrugged human style, switching to sit on the berth edge with her feet pads dangling in the air.

"Already tried. The auto systems locked down our weapons when the door closed. And I am not calling Prowl or Ironhide to override the brig systems to free us, not looking like this," he gestured at their fronts.

"Here," she subspace a cleaning cloth and tossed it before pulling a second to scrub at her armor. "I know who to call. Jazz."

"Jazz? He is our resident spy and thief," he stated.

"And totally discreet when I've needed him," her optics twinkled.

"You needed as in?" he crossed his armored arms, looking stern.

"Warm the berth when you are not there," she vented, fluttering her optics.

"Hah! He doesn't do femmes," Optimus challenged, wiping his simulated glass panels clean.

"He doesn't do any bot, mech or femme. I know, Primus Temple Proper sworn and trained for the good of all Cybertron. Never thought they would use spying and sneaking around to keep our world safe. Think about it," she stopped cleaning, the now stained rag resting on her upper leg. "Being able to feel the planet itself, communicating directly with the Victor Sigma power source and watching as thousands of our kind came online as sparklings."

Optimus vented, hanging his head. "And he served faithfully once the war began. Spying and doing terrible ops missions in areas only he could infiltrate. Stealing, setting up plans and never losing his hope or wild personality."

"No femme or mech could match what he is or has experienced," she returned to cleaning rapidly. "And he's in the elevator heading here."

"Slag it! Couldn't you have given me more warning?" He scrubbed at the trans oil and lubricant on his lower chassis. The sound of approaching mechanical treads had him whipping the cloth behind his back plates and turning to the side in an attempt to hid the worse of his front.

"The stars fill the skies above, Prime's sparklings the planet below," stepping through the main outer door Jazz greeted them.

"Is that how you show respect to a senior officer?" he rumbled, faceplates heating in embarrassment.

"Jazz reporting for escape duty to his ever humping his femme bot mate Ratchet is going to weld your chest plates shut how many sparklings did you create this time Optimus Prime sir!" he saluted.

:: You will not mention this to any of the others right?:: Optimus sent on a private comm line, giving up at any semblance of dignity as he faced forward.

::Only if I get what I want as payment:: Jazz tilted his head, the blue visor catching and reflecting the overhead lights.

::Which is?:: Optimus

::Your alone in my quarters:: Jazz

::WHAT! No slagging way! I do not touch mechs!:: Optimus roared mentally as the other mech winced, wondering if they both had him pegged wrong.

::Slow there Prime-o! I got a Matrix look alike in design and wanted to compare with the real thing. Ain't going to blast my frame like it did Sunny. You hold it, I scan it and bingo! We got a duplicate for emergencies and deception. Unless you want to stand, open chest plates on the command deck while everyone watches my super secret project that is not a secret anymore and might give them ideas:: Jazz corrected.

::Oh:: Optimus shuttered his optics, feeling more foolish.

::Thanks for thinking of me that way, I think. Keep up the old reputation of being a swinger and no bot gets interested seriously enough I have to turn down or explain:: He wiggled his black armored hip plates.

"No private conversations you two," Elita slid slowly off the berth, keeping her legs a little wider apart than normal and taking small steps.

"Ahh, public displays ain't my style Commander," Jazz grinned, deliberately focusing his optical visor away from her. The brig bars unlocked, swinging open under his armored hand. She walked past, grateful at his understanding then giggled as he tried to slam it on Optimus.

Inside the elevator, he handed them each a small black square. "Hologram of your chassis intact and clean. Last until you reach your quarters or nine breems, whichever happens first."

"Do I want to know why you have these?" Optimus challenged, wondering when he had scanned them both to integrate their details into the image holo emitters.

" I like keeping secrets not even Red Alert or Prowl think of," he smiled, his blue visor flaring side to side again.

"You deleted the security tapes of us in the hallway, by the storeroom, before Optimus blasted them and sent the cleaner drones in the spare quarters and a drone to repaint walls and floors didn't you?" Elita realized.

The elevators doors opened without him answering her. "Later Prime, Elita." Transforming down into his racing car alt mode, his engine engaged smoothly before roaring down the hallway.

Elita hobbled forward, wincing. "Bang my plates anymore lover and I'll get a disposable set made. Use, frag me into bliss and replace."

"Do you want me to carry you?" he asked as his concern over her increased. Her optics were not as bright as usual and her movements slower as though tired.

"Please," she stopped still to allow him to swing her up effortlessly against his chest plates.

"This is getting to be a habit," he murmured, rubbing his helm on hers.

"Complaining?"

"Not at all. I would keep you forever if I could. Love the feel of you in my arms," he told her softly. The door to their quarters opened, allowing them inside. He lowered her onto the recharge berth before stepping back. "I need to retrieve the matrix from my office safe. Who knows the trouble it can cause. Rest my love. I will return." She was in full recharge before the door closed.

**PRIME'S OFFICE**

**FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER**

Grimlock, leader of the Dinobots, regarded the rectangular shape of the Matrix of Leadership, fluttering his shortened metal arms in his confusion. "Me do what?"

"Guard it and keep it safe," Optimus repeated.

"You guard, you Prime," he bounced his muzzle up and down in a toothy grin.

"I'm Prime with or without it. I need you to guard it for a few days. You have no spark so it cannot overpower you. You are a Dinobot and earth made by Wheeljack and Ratchet. You are a wise decision."

"But me Grimlock..." he started again.

"Will keep it is until I ask for it back. Do not give it to any other Autobot or let them know you have it," he stressed.

"But me have..." the yellow and red armored Tyrannosaurus dinosaur shuttered his red optics rapidly as his frustration grew.

"No choice but to obey a direct order," Optimus commanded, placing it on the table near the main door. "Wait one quarter a breem and hide it before leaving this office." He left, confident it was safe.

Grimlock transformed into his bi pedal mode staring at it. "Grr, matrix too big to hide. Me for fighting not keeping," he grumbled. Lower chest panels opened slowly, revealing his inner wiring and gears. The matrix hummed, rocking as he lifted it up and in above his mid plates. A presence swarmed through him, testing and comparing his entire existence to what it knew. Then quieted, accepting and waiting.

Faithfully, he waited the required time then transformed back to his dinosaur mode, rolling into the hallway and towards the elevator. The wheels retracted into his feet pads when his sensors identified another Transformer energy signature ahead. Solaray was already waiting before the elevator doors, head down and optics half shuttered. Her slim yellow armored form reflected little of her racecar alt mode even as her graceful wing doors hung lower.

"Why look sad?"

"Nothing you can help with," she commented, barely raising her helm to look at him.

"Me got no ears but me listen," he opened his jaw further and took a step back.

"It's the mechs. Rather the ones stationed here. I left Cybertron because of the war. I hate offlining and okay, I admit it that is why I remained a coding tech for so long. Crawling under and around ancient boards and coders or writing codes for legs that bend better or subspace pullers to be quieter kept me interested but not now," she rushed out her explanation. Her wing doors snapped up straight in anger.

"It's cliché but I want to be a femme! Have sparklings and yah, I fight the Decepticons for a better future but I am tired of waiting for this war to end. Go to earth they tell me. For what? Half the mechs on this base do not even care I am a femme only what firepower I carry. The rest are goo goo over Prime's sparklings but do not want any of their own!" Her wing doors rotated out straight to the sides. "I ask four of them ! Four! And they either turn me down politely or flat turned me down. Is finding a good fragging so hard to do?" She raved then realized he was starting at her, listening without moving. "I am not processor cracked just frustrated. I'm sorry Grim, you don't need an over wired femme yelling."

"Me Grimlock like femme. You come home with me?" He asked, lowering his muzzle almost to the ground while his red optics focused on her.

"Home?" she echoed, her optics shuttering before a wry smile played across her lip plates. Her work with coding sequences included their systems and knew what they were or were not capable of. "What about the other Dinobots?"

"Me share," he grinned, straightening up and towering over her. "We need femme, tired of being alone. You like Dinobots, me promise," he gestured towards the elevator that had arrived.

**ARK LOWER LEVELS**

**DINOBOT QUARTERS**

Three breems later, Solaray sternly locked down her vocalizer least the bubbling laugh erupt again. "Need a femme my floating foot pad. They need a cleaner bot and a parental femme. Hand them energon and wipe their metal chins." The mechs sat on a massive simulated stone bench, watching human cartoons on the wall screen.

"Oh, he going to get bird this time," Sludge growled.

Solaray smiled at his comment. 'He has the same faceplate design as Sideswipe and the lowest intelligence of the Dinobots. Hmm, not too low as he's never been in the brig and that dratted twin practically lives there. And I owe him and his yellow twin for their prank my first day on earth.'

"He never get bird, bird too fast," Swoop said, flapping the tips of his wings. He remained in his alt mode, perched on the bench back perched like a giant vulture.

"Coyote dumb. Trap never work. Need Wheeljack build trap," Grimlock added, sipping on his energon cube.

She snickered behind her armored hand, hiding her noises as she scooped another pile of game chips into the shovel. Four steps and they fell into the sorting square. The shovel was placed with the other sports equipment rack.

"Me Swoop like femme. Kind and smart. You fly with Swoop?" his beak tilted her direction.

"I would be honored," she leaned his way, not finding his alt mode terrifying as other Autobots had. A bell rang as the cartoon ended.

"Dinobots recharge now," Grimlock commanded. Each moved to a spot by the wall except Swoop hopping up to a set of intertwined ceiling beams.

"You recharge on the floor?" Solaray asked in disbelief as they each settled down.

"No, sometimes on benches. Other bots if too slow," Slag teased.

"On the other bots? Oh!" she laughed, remembering Grimlock returning from a battle. 'Big guy was wobbling on his feet pads, trying to finish his report then fell into recharge literally tipping over. They did try to catch him only to get flattened underneath his mass. Hoist had to lift him up for them to slide out from under.'

The Dinobot's optics closed and the loud hums of their systems became soft clicks and whirrs. "I never noticed how loud their mechanics were compared to ours," she murmured, making a mental note to adjust that next coding update. Creeping forward, Solaray navigated their recharging forms to reach the door access back to the ark hallways.

"Door lock engaged, safety protocol. What the?" she snapped, pulling data directly from the system. "Ah, to keep humans out while they are recharging. No exceptions, orders per Prime. Great I'm stuck too," she processed then relaxed.

Venting softly, she moved to curl her thin yellow frame by Grimlock while facing the wall. After setting her internal timer, she slid into recharge on her side but tilting forward to give her wing doors room. A touch across her hip woke her. "Hmm," her optics flashed open as the gentle caress repeated down her thigh plate. Angry, she started to rise up as the weight held her momentarily pinned. She opened her lip plates to yell then stopped after hearing the deep clicks of the recharging mech practically in her audio itself. A sideways glance confirmed his jaw was touching her leg.

"He sounds like a sparkling clicking and twitching. Doesn't even know what he is doing," she relaxed, shifting his jaw over as she scooted a little higher and tucked her feet up. "There, no contact at all." Whimpering awoke her, his arms and feet pads twitching as he recharged fitfully.

"Grimlock? You okay?" she kicked his leg, forcing him out of recharge. Recoiling, he rolled and transformed into his dinosaur mode to sag downwards. "Talk to me Grimlock. What's wrong?"

"Me Grimlock hurt, that never happen before," he ground out, his optics a dull color as his muzzle practically sagged on the floor.

"Hurt in battle? Were you there again? Being hurt? Reliving the injury?" she rose to her feet pads and approached him slowly. He nodded his muzzle in the up and down motion of yes, accepting her touch on his muzzle.

"I can help," she made a decision.

"Help how?" he asked.

"You need a better memory to overlay and lock out that one. How are you at interfacing and merging? It's been a long time for me. Open your chest plates and we can both get what we need. Agreed?" Solaray asked, her lip plates forming a smirk.

"No, me no want medic poking inside. Hurt before," his entire form lay on the floor, only the barest tip of his tail moving.

"I want to spark merge with you," she encouraged.

"What femme mean?"

She vented, realizing he did not know what she meant. Sending a data burst of exactly what a sparking merge between a mech and femme meant, she waited.

"Oh!" His red optics got wide as his head snapped up dropping his jaw gears down. "Never done that before!"

"Never?"

"Me Grimlock would remember that!"

"Do you want to? Try one merge first before anything else?" she asked then shook her helm in disbelief at her own words. 'What is it? Thousands of years without a merge and I offer to him? What is it that makes me want to comfort him?'

Transforming, his bi pedal mode appeared out of the shifting gears and metal armor. With a whirr click, his upper chest plates split into multiple parts sliding up and out of the way.

"Wow!" she exclaimed at the brilliance of his spark.

_To be continued..._

_Next Solaray and Grimlock get a set of surprises. Elita surprises Prime in his office and Ratchet threatens to remove Optimus' assets. Wheeljack has a confession to make._


	12. Chapter 12 Of sparks and lip plates

Author's Notes: Thanks for reading and reviewing. How did the Dinobots get sparks being earth built? Wheeljack knows and will have to explain to Prime. It is better to ask forgiveness than obtain permission.

Warning: More Prime and Elita smut. Intense office scene.

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**DISASTER THY NAME IS DINOBOT**

Grimlock remained still with his chest plates open, the blaze of his spark shimmering across the rough hewn stone walls. Even in his bi pedal mode his height and size dominated over her. Yet Solaray felt no fear. The faintest sounds of transform echoed as her yellow chest plates slid and shifted out to the sides. Her door wings folded in towards each other in reaction.

His red optics focused on her flaring spark before he began backing up, arms raised defensively. "Me cannot do this."

"Why? I won't hurt you."

"No want hurt you. Want you around forever. Nice to Dinobots, not think we stupid," Grimlock admitted, flexing an armored hand in front of her. His stubby fingers could encompass her entire neck and face plates.

"You won't. I trust you and you need to trust me on this," she leaned forward to kiss the tip of his fingers.

"Me Grimlock try," he vented, kneeling down before her. He lay on his back slowly as to not shake the floor with his massive weight as his legs shifted out straight. She walked around to his side, flinging an armored leg up and over his massive girth before settling astride across his mid plates. Leaning forward, she braced with both hands on the open metal edging. Energy tendrils reached hungrily for hers from his spark. With a gasp, Solaray was falling forward as the arcing silver blue energy exploded between them.

THEY WERE ONE BEING

THEY WERE ONE SOUL

THEY WERE ONE

**PRIME'S OFFICE**

**LEVEL THREE ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICES**

Optimus strode down the orange metal hallway pausing before his office door as a familiar energy signature flashed across his systems. It barely registered and would have been undetectable by any other mech. 'Trying to hide?' he processed, peering in around the door edge. The main office was exactly as he left it and utterly without a visible occupant. He confirmed the space behind the door was clear as he moved forward.

Raising an optic arch and leaning around the corner of his desk, he smiled at the pink and white armored femme tucked tightly underneath it. "Feeling insecure? My arms would make a better comfort spot," he chuckled.

Her faceplates warmed, "I was planning on surprising you."

"I'm surprised you fit under there," he let her pull on his armored arms as she rose up and out onto her feet pads.

"The concept seemed good in my processor. I hide under there and you sit down and I pleasure you in a way I rarely do," she brushed off dust from her aft while explaining.

"Pleasure as in?" his cooling system kicked a notch higher guessing exactly what she meant.

"My lip plates on your interface rod. If that is what you still want?" she asked then laughed as he practically jumped into his desk chair, sliding forward to lightly bump against her. His legs moved to the sides spreading his thighs wider. She knelt in one graceful motion removing his codpiece. "I'll take that as a yes."

Leaning in, her lip plates began encompassing the tip of his hardening rod. A groan escaped his vocals, his massive frame pressing back into his chair as her firm moving metal met flexible expanding plating.

The wall intercom buzzed. "Optimus you there? You're late for your med bay appointment." Ratchet's vocals transmitted from the speaker.

"I'm...busy. Please reschedule. I have... pressing business...to attend to," Optimus vented out, barely able to keep his vocals steady as his hands nearly crushed the chair armrests. His cooling fans whirled audibly as she swirled around his tip.

"Fine! But no fragging that femme of yours until I see you both!" With a slamming sound from the other end, the intercom crackled off.

"Elita please," he begged not wanting to hurt her by pressing in further than she could take. He pushed against her helm in need until she backed off, one of her hands grabbing and pumping up and down his entire length instead.

"I live to please my Prime," she reached down between her legs, moving her other hand beyond his view. Bringing it up, light purple lubricant coated the ends of her pink armored fingers.

He moaned, his lip plates twitching at the sight. Elita smeared the lubricant around his base as her fingers delved into the exposed cabling between his thighs.

Her hands continued to work him bringing him to the edge of release then backing him off as her lips moved across his thighs, seeking gaps and edges to nip. Biting the cables on his inner leg, she left a pressure mark as he tightened and strained. Her hands rippled up and down his rod intensifying the motion before her lip plates closed on the tip again and pulled. The sound of the office door opening was barely audible over the sucking sounds.

Optimus' froze, his optics going wide as his hands tightened on her frame. Time slowed as her battle systems engaged in reaction to his panic. His lip plates opening to sound a warning registered in the distant corner of her processor. She felt the battle rifle sliding into her hand out of subspace as he began yelling. "It's..." A sudden movement from behind her was answered by her rifle blast firing sight unseen over the top of the desk.

"...Ratchet!" Optimus finished.

**DINOBOT QUARTERS**

Solaray pulled out of recharge, instinctively folding her arms across her sore protoform. The stone floor was cool under her heated armor. "The recharging bots sound like the chirping crickets by the lake," she processed before glancing to confirm chest plates closed and relocked on them both.

Grimlock recharged alongside as she placed one hand tenderly on his massive chest, feeling the strong spark and systems humming below. Her memory core barely held the essence of his personality from their merges but it was enough. The arrogance of a newer life that had not suffered defeat, made the mistakes that hunted memory cores or recharges. The purity of his simple desires and his need for what he felt and could not understand. Answered by her spark in a way she could not explain.

"I think I love you," she murmured slipping back into recharge. Unknown to either of them, their sparks pulsed in sync.

**PRIME'S OFFICE**

Optimus dropped the white armored medic into his desk chair, stepping back and grimacing. "Dearest, we are in my office in the center of the Ark surrounded by security systems, cameras and the other Autobots. How could our safety be compromised?"

"I reacted to you and a threat I could not see!" she countered, clipping her center plate back on between her legs.

"You shot Ratchet!"

"I stunned him. Be glad I added that setting to your old ion rifle. Otherwise, you would be looking for a scrapper or parts grabber not an excuse. He knows better than to enter without knocking especially when locked," she gestured towards the door.

"He has command overrides automatically engaged. There is no such thing as a locked door to a Chief Medical Officer. You better start looking for a place to hide us when he does revive."

"Hmm speaking of looking, you look like you need relief still. His exact words were no fragging until he saw both of us," she murmured.

"He never saw you, only your muzzle flash," Optimus palmed his face in his hands. His head jerked up, optics wide as she grabbed onto his lower parts. "What are you...ohhhh!"

**DINOBOT QUARTERS**

Grimlock stroked down the side plates of the femme sitting tucked across his lap. Nestling against his chest armor, she recharged as his arms curled around her. The other Dinobots had pulled out of recharge and gathered close. They waited and watched.

"Me Grimlock daddy," he whispered.

"How know?" Swoop hung upside down from the rafter beams by his claws in his pterodactyl form.

"Matrix tells me. Need tell others," he stated while tightening his grip around her.

"Why? Strongest lead and Grimlock strongest. No tell," Sludge countered.

"Dinobots not know build shells. We good destroy not build," the Dinobot leader reminded.

"Oh."

"Wheeljack come then we learn," he continued.

"Me no like to learn, me Slag no like anything" Slag said. His triceratops horns swung side to side to emphasize his surly attitude.

"Then no touch sparkling Dinobots! They tiny, we protect," he growled fiercely.

"We protect good," Swoop agreed as the door to the Ark hallways opened.

**PRIME'S OFFICE**

"I'm going to blame you for this one," Elita stated wiping the last of the dark trans fluid from her chest plates.

"Me?" he regarded her contentedly. His crotch plate was in place as his cleaning cloth sailed into the trash.

"You panicked which set me off," she grumbled.

"I do not panic," Optimus stated regally then yelped as the office door slid open.

"You two weren't fragging again were you?" Ironhide challenged. The ancient red armored warrior glanced back and forth between them before approaching Ratchet.

"Why does every bot ask me that? What happened to are the newest battle plans ready or what command decision are you agonizing over in our best interest now?" he grumbled.

"You could always hand the Matrix over to Ultra Magnus and let him lead and command," she quipped in a false sweetness.

"The matrix is handed off and safe where it is," he commented.

"Next time call Hoist. His alt mode has a crane attachment. I'm too slagging old for this," Ironhide grumped as he carried Ratchet out over his shoulder.

"And Optimus," she fidgeted on her feet pads rubbing her legs together.

"Yes dearest?"

"The minute Ratchet clears us frag me senseless."

"Already planned on it."

**ARK MED BAY**

**FOUR BREEMS LATER**

"Prime?" A mech's voice softly called his name. Glancing over his shoulder plate, he saw Wheeljack standing inside the double door with his sidebars showing colors of embarrassment.

"Ratchet will recover. Ironhide verified the stun charge to drain it off safely," he reassured the civilian scientist. Ratchet's still white form lay on the nearer medical berth, cables plugged into his neck. Ironhide and Elita attended him.

"Actually it's the Dinobots. You gave them the matrix and it powered over one of their sparks," he said.

"Their what?" Optimus stuttered.

"They don't have sparks because there were none available. Not even you can create one outside of a merge," Elita corrected calmly. She moved to stand by her mate.

"True when they were built here on earth but remember the asteroid moon mission? You took a command team and left for a few days? Stray power fluctuations on a new space bridge portal were detected," he reminded.

"And you took a team to disable it," Optimus remembered.

"A team of Dinobots, myself and Jazz. We did disable it. After we returned. From Cybertron."

"You didn't?" he realized what he was explaining.

"Vector Sigma gave them strong spark essences. Sparks sufficient to power their oversize metal forms. I never intended them to spark merge," his bars flushed deeper scarlet.

"Vector Sigma as in our Cybertronian power source shaped like a faceted orb? Thought to act out the will of Primus, and can infuse inanimate Transformer bodies with new life? Activating it requires a special circuit key...or a Temple raised sensitive. Like Jazz communicating with it and that means," Elita said.

"Dinobots have sparks," her mate finished.

"The mission wasn't easy! We had to run over Decepticons and then Jazz found these twin femmes he use to know. They guided us into the lower levels. He asked Vector Sigma and we were not sure it would even work. But it did and the bridge was destroyed and I did not see any reason to mention it lest their sparks get targeted. Externally they looked the same but Grimlock merged with a femme and we think, that is the he claims the Matrix told him," his vocals trailed off.

"More sparklings?" Ratchet's vocals interrupted them all. The medic leaned forward accepting Ironhide's arm for support. He rubbed at the back of his neck plates where the surge cable still connected. A swift pull released it, his neck panel closing back.

"Apparently so," Optimus stated, pinching his nose plates with his hand.

"You revived me for that? Next time leave me in stasis. I could have used the rest," the ancient medic grumbled.

"Actually he is spark mated to her. I confirmed the readings myself. Both sparks are in near perfect sync underneath the residual matrix energy. And she is carrying a batch of sparkling essences," Wheeljack announced.

All optics turned to focus on him. He shrugged human style, both hands palms up in the air.

"How did?" Elita's optics narrowed.

"I scanned her spark after their spark merge. He was worried she took so long to pull out of recharge. They needed sparks! I wanted to reproduce true transformers, not earth made half ways," Wheeljack rushed out.

"Great energon balls Wheeljack! They are reproducing now," Ironhide grunted.

_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13 Ratchet and his diagnosis

Author's Notes: Another chapter with the next two in progress. Please review or drop me an e-mail if you prefer.

Shout out to femme4prime for her fic _You Know You Are Addicted To Cyberporn _and referencing this story in Chapter 2. Thanks to hummergrey for her _If an Autobot do not do the following part #5_ and the possible worlds. Starscream meeting his fan girls had me grinning. Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for her idea of Wheeljack teleporting flowers in her fic "What Comes Around."

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**GET READY FOR THE SOUNDS OF LITTLE FEET...ERR...ROARS**

**DINOBOT QUARTERS**

**ARK STONE LEVELS**

Ratchet's multi faceted optics slowed their spinning as his medical scans completed. He remained still, centering his medical knowledge cores on the retrieved information. The yellow armored femme in front of him began sliding her chest panels back, her optics finally raising to meet his. "Confirm, you are carrying ten sparkling essences, all functional at this early stage. Eight are visible with two hiding under your lay lines and the back spires."

"Me Grimlock beat Prime. Me make ten," the red and gold dinosaur shaped mech stomped his clawed foot, the vibrations spreading through the volcanic rock without harm. Both the medic and Solaray remained steady as their feet pads adjusted automatically.

"You and the Matrix help make ten. Are you functional otherwise?" The medic concentrated on her. Any hesitation, any uneasiness and he had his excuse to shift her to medbay.

"Totally completely yes," she chuckled, patting her closed plates. "I wanted this and fate answered. I need help once shelled to feed and monitor them all. Ten! I wanted that many but not all at once. But I'll accept every one of their precious lives."

Ratchet frowned, tempted to order a full processor diagnostic on her but dismissed it immediately. 'I would not order it on a mech, I will not change my practices solely based on gender. She has the same right to be a parental unit.'

"And you Grimlock?" Solaray asked.

"Happy, love you. Femme feel good," he bobbed his golden jaw up and down.

Ratchet's optics spun again, "Never thought I'd hear a Dinobot say that."

"Feel femme in spark, not alone," he extended his muzzle to nearly touching her. Her arms wrapped around his oblong jaw even as she pressed a kiss on his metal with her lip plates.

"If you will excuse me, I am needed in medbay. Any changes and you call me immediately. Is that clear?" Ratchet shook his white armored helm in disbelief as the elevator doors closed. Stone walls changed to plated metal siding as the elevator rose. The doors opened on the mid level to Wheeljack's lab area.

"I need your help designing the Dinobot sparklings shells," he began, striding out past the warning signs printed in both Cybertron and English characters.

"Heavy armor, fast movements to avoid being accidentally stomped on and able to survive anything program additions?" The inventor asked without turning around. His white and green armored form hunched over his main worktable, hands soldering a delicate connection on the part in front of him.

"Pretty much. We can install protocols on the Dinobots and use additional watchers to keep the sparklings safe. In addition, there is one other thing you need to take care of. The talk," Ratchet said, optics noting the presence of new char marks on the ceiling and wall.

"The Dinobot's have a speech coding error. Their speech-specific parameter estimation using audio signal processing techniques have an untraceable flaw. Their generic data compression algorithms translate Cybertronian languages into human English and you know this. We can work with the sparklings to ensure they talk properly," he swiveled around on his chair, the part momentarily forgotten.

"I meant the TALK," Ratchet stressed the last word while pointing down at his crotch plate.

The scientist's bars flashed bright pink of embarrassment. "I am not explaining reproduction to them!"

"You are their parental mech 'Jack. You designed, built and activated them."

"But I can't explain that!"His sidebars were nearly red with intensity. He swung back and forth on the chair as though looking for the nearest escape route.

"Why not? Draw on personal experience and use my medical database how to texts. I've explained it numerous times as a medic, including to Bumblebee once he reached fourth shell," Ratchet said.

"I almost never...you know...too busy in my lab...and I am not telling them that!"

"You and Jazz risked everything on Cybertron to give the Dinobots sparks and now this completes that task," he countered.

"Have Jazz talk to them then," he argued then processed for an astro second. "Bad idea?"

"Worse than your plan to build a teleportation device and test it on flowers. Roses still fall from the sky without warning when they teleport back into this dimension," Ratchet commented.

**PRIME AND ELITA'S QUARTERS **

Elita onlined slowly, making mewing sounds as the overwhelming pleasure ebbed. The familiar red armor of her sparkmate filled her vision. Internally she felt him in her valve as the released trans fluid cooled and drained down. Shifting, her thighs remained trapped under his, connecting them there as he half reclined alongside. She winced as sensors pinged across her lower array from his earlier pounding.

His optics shutters opened, blazing to an intense blue before dialing in to see her. "My femme," he vented, pulling out his softening rod as he shifted upward. His dark trans oil dribbled across her thighs to mix with purple lubricant. "My messy femme," he said softly.

"Mess making mech," she teased back, closing her legs together.

"Is there any other?" He asked, gesturing for her to slide over on the recharge berth. He stretched out on his side, draping one arm across her front. "My femme."

"Optimus," Elita began, "have you ever been with a mech?"

"No, femmes are all I have ever been around," he stated firmly. "You know the reason why or rather who."

"Alpha Trion," she realized.

He nodded, "Unlike most of our race, I was raised by Alpha Trion and a parental femme from my earliest memory core. No youth sector, no group instructor and it took vorns before I realized how rare that was. Thought it wasn't until later I learned neither were my true creators."

"Alpha Trion lied up to the moment he left; I remember how hurt you were when realizing the truth," Elita commented softly, snuggling closer.

"As I was vocalizing," he continued, passing over what could not be changed. "I was raised by both genders and image was everything to him. You know how few femmes there are to mechs yet I was always around femmes to learn how to work alongside them, understand them and see them as equals. My parental femme made sure of that. Sadly, Megatron preferred the power struggles and political domination following in our mech's pattern. I preferred more recreational activities on a personal level. "

"Femme magnet indeed," she half growled, pushing his arm off her.

"I did not interface until full maturity and only with genuine respect for the femme. I had plenty of offers I never accepted and you know femmes still appreciate my Prime assets," his regal baritone held a hint of sheepishness.

"Appreciate from a distance," she said, sliding up to lean back against the wall, moving her legs upwards and outward to ease her tight cables.

"Turn over," he gestured for her to lay faceplates down alongside him.

"Not now Orion. I'm hurting from the last time I turned over for you," she vented, raising one hand to stop him from touching her.

He pretended to pout, moving his lip plates back and forth. "I only want to ease your aches out."

"Only?"

"After our adventures instead of recharging, all morning with our sparklings using me as a climbing tower and meeting with command officers you think interfacing your valve again is all I am processing?" His bright blue optics regarded her steadily.

"My only processing is the backlog of pain sensor reports I've put on hold." With obvious stiffness, she turned over onto her front, stretching out alongside him.

'Not all but mainly,' he processed merrily. Gingerly, he retracted the hip armor plating to reveal her cabling and delicate protoform below. "You are tight. Ratchet will need to heat the cabling to relax them down later."

"Call him, I won't move," she murmured.

"He is not seeing you on my berth. That is my privilege as your spark mate," his optics spun as he scanned her.

"If he helps I don't care where he sees me," she mumbled into the recharge cover.

"I do, hold still," he ordered. "Magnetic pulsing will disrupt the ionic charges enough to reach medbay." Rhythmic energy pulses thrummed across her cables and internal gears. Gentle clicking reached his audios as he finished. "Elita? Elita, my pretty pink gem?" he leaned over her faceplates, seeing her optics shuttered. "Recharging already after only two interfaces? I wanted to spark merge." He slid quietly off the berth, striding into their main room. He barely grabbed the energon cube when the internal comm interrupted.

::Chief Medical Officer to Prime. You fragging your femme?:: Ratchet

::Absolutely not. If you need her, comm her. I am busy refueling and reviewing endless reports that will take breems to sort. Unless you are calling to volunteer with such mundane matters ?:: Optimus answered.

::Mundane is checking fluid levels and wing door settings. Report to med bay. I need to check the Matrix:: Ratchet

**MEDICAL BAY**

"A Prime takes care of the needs of those under him," Optimus said. He sat on the medical berth, dangling his feet off the side and waited, the hatch on his wrist port open.

"Under, over and around the ark with that femme of yours, speaking of which. Where is she? Her comm is on standy," Ratchet asked, tapping directly into the larger mech's sensor reports.

"Resting. Wore out before I did," he smirked.

'Odd, new programs installed,' Ratchet realized as the data scrolled past. Curious, he pulled the parts coding. "All the upgrades! And you chose to...to...who installed it?"

"Technically I did. Wheeljack fabricated the parts. Sunstreaker assembled it to vibrate and I installed it," he admitted, wincing as Ratchet slammed his wrist cover closed hard enough to jar his entire arm.

"How did you know to do that? Do not answer. The Matrix? All the wisdom of our race and you use it for interface toys!" He raved, updating the medical datapad.

"Toys are for playing. I'm serious about Elita," Optimus countered.

"Seriously spark happy! Why?"

"I cannot lose her," his armored fists clenched the recharge cover. "She is worth any attempt to keep her happy. I saw Megatron shoot her as Ariel. My last memory as Orion Pax is trying to reach her as stasis engaged. I thought I lost her again after Praxus fell. It took a joor for me to discover her transport had left before the attack. I've had recharge flashes holding her broken chassis in my hands," his optics shuttered in remembered pain.

A gently touch on his shoulder plate focused him outward. "Spark mates are our race's greatest joy and suffer more than is recorded. You could have asked me. I'd have thrown a wrench and yelled, which you ignore, then installed the part."

"I was afraid you'd refuse," he said.

"I thought a Prime feared nothing," Ratchet commented.

"I fear losing Elita," he admitted.

"She would love you if you were an arrogant aft mech without the sense of a third shell youngling. Wait, you are!" he teased, stepping back out of his grabbing range. "Seriously Optimus, she loved you as Orion. An engineer who built bridges and looked to the stars. A mech who loved her and gave her what she needed."

"And she became femme commander in a brutal war with my own spark brother because of our love," he vented, sliding off the berth to stand.

"And what did you do?"

"I left Cybertron, deserting her," he bowed his helm in memory.

"You thought she and the femmes were attacked and destroyed. We all did. I grieved for Moonracer until the moment I physically held her in my arms again."

"I knew she was online," he pressed a hand on the armor plating over his spark. "I let my duty and the mission drive me onward, leaving her behind."

"On earth her behind has been driven enough by you," he chuckled. Optimus felt his faceplates heat even as he chuckled.

"Ever heard of repetitive interfacing urge syndrome?"

"Not that I remember," his blue optics dimmed as he searched his knowledge bases.

"It's when your base line code adjusts and you can't control your reproductive urges to put it nicely," Ratchet explained.

"Every maturing mech has that problem as I recall," Optimus joked. His chassis movements, the intense blue of his optics and the whirring of his side antenna gears betrayed his serious listening.

Ratchet kept his professional emotionless expression. "Your desire to merge would overwhelm your safety protocols. Femmes have been hurt unintentionally." His armored hands typed another line into the datapad.

"How badly hurt?"

"Bad enough to make a medical diagnosis entry for every medic to learn," he sat the datapad down, the smirk showing past his controls.

"What's the cure? High grade and a wiling femme?"

"Only one known cure works. Early cases were misdiagnosed; resulting in the mechs offlining until they discovered removing all interfacing protocols and the parts necessary slowed the onslaught of the condition. The cure is a spark merge with a fully trained and prepared medic, the repair coding dropping directly into the spark."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Very. The medic can offline as well as the patient," Ratchet turned back, serious in his processors. "The last successful medic to attempt the procedure was my trainer for my medical internship. She saved the mech and ended up spark mated to him. I have the "cure" codes in memory of her but never want to use them." The rest of the exam went quickly and without complaint. He dismissed Optimus, typing out the last of his exam notes.

First Aid stepped out of the side office doorway the moment the med bay doors closed behind their leader. "How rare is it? I never heard of it."

"Very rare but factual. Consult med entry 097-760364."

"That's old, almost ancient with that coding," he commented initiating the search.

"It has been a long time since femmes were common as the mechs," Ratchet reminded.

"Why tell Prime? He matches none of the possible fragmented coding markers signs. His system upgrades have built in protective coding and the matrix ensures his processor stability," First Aid said.

"Make the slagger process what he's doing other than pleasure," he said.

"What if he believes he has it?"

The smile across Ratchet's faceplates was as wide as his metal would make.

_To be continued..._

_NEXT: A Decepticon pays a visit and discovers the sparklings._


	14. Chapter 14 Couples and high grade

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for the reviews. Yes, there will be a talk with Wheeljack explaining reproducing to the Dinobots but that will be next chapter. This focuses on couples before the Decepticons appear and the Dinobot fun happens. I worked in several reader requests as well as reviews. A joor is approx six earth hours so 200 joors equals approx 1300 hours or 54 days.

_Warning: Please do not eat or drink during reading to prevent potential choking. A friendly health reminder from the medical staff. _

**THE ARK, MT ST HILLARY, OREGON STATE, USA**

**LOWER LEVELS – DINOBOT QUARTERS**

Solaray twirled on her feet pads, giggling and dancing with the Dinobot flyer Swoop. In his bi pedal mech form, his movements were smooth and light as his soaring. Her wing doors resembled fairy wings as they twirled and moved to the playing melody. Grimlock stood nearby, red optics watching with pride at his yellow armored femme. The other Dinobots worked around the room, coloring with their giant crayons. The sign slowly spelled out _welcome_though it had two ees on the end of the word. The animated soundtrack ended, Swoop stepping back and bowing low to her. Smiling, Solaray held her arms out to Grimlock. He lunged, gabbing her close to speak.

"You Grimlock's," he growled.

"I'm my own femme, mated to you or not!" she rapped a closed fist on his armor.

"Me talking to little Grimlock's inside you," he corrected tilting his black square helm to rest against her chest plates.

"That reminds me. What do you want to call them?" she asked, wrapping her hands around his armor.

"That easy. Roar, Stamp, Rend and Claws," he said.

She laughed, her chassis bouncing against his head. He leaned back, pulling out of her grip. "What me say funny?"

"You can't name them that! Moreover, that is four names. We are going to have ten sparklings. Though I can name five and you name five?"

"What wrong with names?" Slag asked, pausing in his coloring. The tip of the red crayon was mashed with his force.

"Me Swoop no understand. Names good," the taller mech added. He selected a giant blue crayon and began coloring the background of the sign.

"Wheeljack named you for traits of the original dinosaurs but names are usually chosen by both sets of parental units. My name is Solaray. Sunfighter was my creator mech and 'Solar' means sun. Lunaray was my creator femme. Her last part of 'Ray' becomes my name Solaray. I would like to continue the tradition."

The Dinobot leader tilted his helm back, processing hard. His optics blazed for a second as he found an answer. "Me understand. Need S names with two parts. Stampout, Strongfoot, Sneakfast," he continued as she vented, closing her optics.

**OPTIMUS AND ELITA'S QUARTERS**

Optimus tapped on Elita's pink armored helm, hesitant to replace the hip plating over her protoform. The revealed cables remained taunt despite his earlier pulsing. The berth creaked with his mass as he shifted to stretch out alongside her. The recharging femme murmured, dragging an arm over her helm. He repeated their private code pattern before her hand slapped at his. His fingers curled gently around hers, tugging her enough to slip his other armored arm under her upper body.

"My pretty gem. Time to get moving," he crooned, one hand reaching down to stroke near her femme port.

"Go slag yourself," she suggested, her vocal tone irritated sounding as her blue optics onlined.

"No need. Any femme here would welcome my attentions and quite a few of the mechs," he rumbled as his hand circled lower across her armor.

"Then call them. Their pain sensors can ping as loudly as mine," she retorted, keeping her legs together.

"My spark calls to you alone," he touched his lip plates to hers, letting their sparks hover over each other. He felt hers through all the layers of the metal keeping them from merging.

"Leave me alone," she growled, turning her head to the side away from him.

"As you wish," he nodded, shifting up and away from her. He climbed off the berth, his red and blue armored frame moving slowly to stand.

Her optics narrowed at his maleness hung in the open air before her. Taking two steps back, he stood with hips wide as his interface began thickening. "I will not force or make you beg me. You must ask me of your own free will."

"And if I ask you to go away?"

"If you make that request I will honor it," he answered.

She hesitated, and then turned onto her side slowly with grunting. "If you can interface me in under a breem without adding to injury and I enjoy it, go ahead. One more sensor ping and you don't touch me or this berth for two hundred joors agreed?" she challenged. Her pink armored hand tapped the recharge berth top for emphasis.

His optics blazed as he smirked. "Short, fast and pleasurable."

"I'm a femme not fast food," she grumbled, rolling onto her back plates.

"And I am your mate," his regal baritone was firm.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you will remember this interfacing," he flexed his hips before moving up to the berth edge.

"I remember all of them. Sometimes I wonder if you haven't developed a medical condition," she closed her optics, relaxing her head onto her armored arm as he blinked, hesitating.

"Elita, you need repair. Let's get you to med bay. I can carry you," he offered, backing up towards the center of the room.

"Are your arms long enough to hold me over junior Prime there?" She teased, pointing.

"I can handle that," he reminded, reaching down even as his interface rod continued rising.

"Hands off! That belongs to me and me alone," she commanded, sitting up and hissing as lower cables pulled.

"You need a medic. You are..."

"Not decrepit or on spark support. Get over here and face me," she demanded.

"You are in no condition to interface with those tight cables. I say you need a medic. My needs can wait Ariel."

"There are no cables in my valve Orion. I am a femme. You mech, do what I say and I say interface the slag out of me or recharge elsewhere!" she snapped, the barest trace of red showing in her blue optics.

"As you command," he smiled and moved to the recharge berth. Energon flowed into his lines, audios and optics sharpening as his interface rod hardened straight up. Venting faster, he leaned down placing his blue armored arms over hers to pin them down. "How bad do you want me?" he whispered in her audios.

"I don't. What have you done to arouse me?" she whispered back. She felt his hands shifting off her arms to rest alongside hers as he climbed onto the berth. His lip plates pulled on hers before she felt the gentle touch between her legs. A metal finger slid around her opening before pressing against it. He grunted as warm purple lubricant seeped onto his hand.

"You are aroused and want me femme because you need to be dominated, to feel my strength. You are mine and I take what is mine," he growled, shifting his armored hands to rest alongside hers. His wider hips aligned over hers, lowering while he watched her faceplates. Any hesitation or sign of pain and he would stop. His rod tapped against her valve edge, pushing gently past the outer tightness. He slid in slowly, reveling in her warm wetness.

"Ah...ahh...Optimus!" she gasped. Hilting deep within, he vented before shifting his hips around. She moaned at his movements inside her sensitized valve.

'She's too sore for pounding and too tired for an extended interface,' he reasoned, activating the small holding tank installed atop his main transfluid tank. The fluids mixed and charged as he slid gently in and out of her valve before hilting again. Concentrating, a single line of code flashed across his vision triggering a specific coding sequence. Hot intermixed transfluid blasted out as his rod slid slowly back to her valve edge.

Shrieking, she arched as the hot tingly fluid coated her insides. Chuckling, he braced her arched back with one hand as she climaxed with a scream before offlining. Wincing, he pulled out, rubbing the end of his tingling rod with his free hand.

"Ironhide's right. Changing that mixture burns at our end even if it excites and charges the femme as she absorbs it. No wonder Ratchet banned it. Owww that stings!" He clamped down on his vocalizer as his insides flared to life. "It burns! From my tank through the lines to the tip owww!" Noiselessly, his lip plates formed a yell as his lower frame agonized. Slowly, it ebbed away. 'Pit I'm dumping that fluid and removing that mini tank by tonight.'

Elita suddenly onlined, her chassis writhing as her vocalizer stuttered for words. Concerned, he leaned closer while scanning. Faster than he could blink, she reached up to lock lip plates as her armored legs slid out and around his. Her center plating pressed hard against his deflated rod.

"More...need more!"

He hesitated; weighing the pain against her pleasure then smirked, nibbling down her neck plating. Reaching her mid chest, he pulled away from her as his simulated glass chest plates began sliding apart. Hands ripping across his armor, her chest plates slid back as she ground her hip plates against him. The brilliance of his spark reflected across her optics.

"Easy femme," he cautioned, lowering and sliding in even as his rod hardened. The silky walls of her valve clenched around him tightly. Their hips forced against each other as he braced to keep their open chest edges apart. The silver blue of her spark energy reached out for his. Flashing lines of code crossed his vision as the release sequence triggered. Shrieking, she arched as the hot tingly fluid coated her insides. Her spark energy exploded outward, swarming around and through his.

THEY WERE ONE BEING

THEY WERE ONE SOUL

THEY WERE ONE

**MAIN HALLWAY**

**PERSONNEL QUARTERS**

"And why is that a problem?" the femme's vocal sounded the instant the elevator door opened. Her crimson red graceful form followed the sound as she exited first, hands waving through the air for emphasis. A massive red, white and blue form exited, its owner neither graceful nor fast. His large armored hands held a datapad.

"I accidentally got you with sparklings," Ultra Magnus stated, his optics averted.

"There are no accidents in this universe. Well, accidents like Wheeljack blowing up the power generators using acid wash instead of gear grease because he mixed up the containers but that's different," Firestorm stated.

"Different is being a commander mech acting like an open interfacing unpaired mech."

"No bot here will confuse you with Sunstreaker," she commented dryly. "Magnus, my love, please stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Magnus protested before realizing his legs locked together and his hands were clutching the datapad low over his front.

"Being embarrassed about being active at interfacing and getting me with sparklings!" She leaned in under his vision to make their optics meet.

"I'm not embarrassed about that," he countered then vented. "I'm embarrassed I never asked you beforehand."

"You did. You said and I quote 'femme you have a choice to make. Feel exquisite pleasure that will vibrate up your struts for orns or turn and walk away, wondering what could be as your valve aches for my strength.' End quote."

"I never said anything about sparklings!"

"No, you are yelling about it," a deeper femme's voice commented from behind them both. "And are you planning to move soon? Your wide aft and thicker processors are blocking the hallway mech."

"Oh, he's moved enough," she teased, leaning out and around his lower array as his venting increased.

Chromia stood there, a smirk on her faceplates. "I heard. Congratulations."

The datapad beeped as his armored hands compressed the outer casing by holding it tightly against his frame.

::He's not aroused is he? Hiding the fact he's a large rod carrying mech?:: Chromia sent to her alone.

::As if! Embarrassed about being the mech half of our sparklings. Hiding the source of our problems by his definition:: Firestorm sent back then blinked her optics as the dark blue armored femme's weapon appeared out of subspace into her right hand.

"I'll handle this, Fire," Chromia said, moving closer before casually shoving business end of rifle against his datapad. "Keep covering yourself and I'll give you a reason to cover that area all the way to med bay. Stop acting like a youngling Magnus and be proud of the gifts of life you helped spark."

"I am proud of their existence," he said, his battle systems coming online with everything focused on her trigger finger.

"Then quit hiding. Second processing, do not show me what is behind that datapad. Keep your codpiece on and your chin plates up. Act like a commanding mech for Primus sake!" she verbally threw out in her best command voice.

"Yes ma'am!" He saluted one handed, the other not moving the datapad under her rifle.

"Care for an energon refuel either of you two?" Chromia asked, gesturing towards the nearby recreation room as her rifle returned to subspace.

"Had mine this morning. Communications monitoring for me and he has a meeting with security staff. After he replaces a crushed datapad and transfers the data. Maybe next time," the crimson armored femme waved as continued on their way.

**RECREATION ROOM**

**HALF AN HOUR LATER**

"Ahh, the femme that can't walk straight," Chromia greeted her oldest friend as she entered the room. The deep blue armored femme reclined in a chair at the nearer table. The room was empty of other Autobots and quiet, making the taps of Elita's shorter steps obvious.

"Very funny from the femme that wears out recharge berths every orn," Elita greeted her back.

"And sometimes in between. But you are walking the stiff legged I've been thoroughly and expertly shagged way," a single push slid out the metal table chair to her. "I'll get the energon, you rest. I thought you had an appointment with Ratchet?" Chromia rose gracefully, striding purposefully to the serving bar to get their fuel.

"Postponed. He and the other command officers are dealing with the Dinobot issue. Grimlock will not let Solaray out of their care and they will not leave the lower levels, claiming she is safe with them. Our sparkling sitters were grateful for the extra watching time and our kids are too young to care."

"Unlike the little stomping, roaring monsters soon to be roaming the ship," Chromia spun her optics in tightly in amusement, two large energon cubes grasped in her hands as she returned to the table.

"Solaray is one half of their coding, even if she has weird tasted in mechs," Elita commented, shifting her armored legs a little wider apart to ease throbbing cables.

"Mech as in only Grimlock and his spark is Victor Sigma made so his coding is fairly intelligent, once it develops and don't overstretch, you'll strip the hip rotation gears."

"How is Solaray taking the news?" She sipped at the energon before frowning at its bland taste.

"That one is probably still in the upper atmosphere. Never seen a femme so elated at the news she is carrying sparks," tilting her head back, Chromia slugged the energon in one intake.

Elita vented in relief. "I wasn't sure and had to ask."

"If she chose any Cybertron made mech, or even a femme, would you have been concerned?"

"Yes. Being a parental unit is a huge existence change irregardless of who you pick as a partner," her blue optics narrowed as she gazed at her friend. "Why? Did you ever process of being with another femme?"

"No. As the humans say, I'm too straight," Chromia replied.

"You mean Ironhide's rod is too straight and thick to deny!" Elita roared.

"Any femme would," she muttered, her faceplates heating.

"Not me. I am going to deny Optimus," she chuckled, shifting yet again on the chair. "And welcome Ratchet with open legs."

"Threesome or Optimus gets to watch? Kinky," Chromia commented.

"Not! I need medical cooling gel for my valve from a medical officer!" Elita sputtered, wiping at the energon drops on her hand. "Optimus and I alone. Well, alone with that Matrix in his chest popping out sparklings. You know, if we keep multiplying at this rate, we are not going to need armbands to tell the sparklings apart, we are going to band entire parts of the ship. Move the energon storage for starters. How old is this?"

"What do you want? High grade?" the other femme teased.

"Please," she moved her lip plates as though dry.

"As you wish." A minute later, Chromia hesitated, holding both cubes beyond her physical reach. "Any chance you are carrying?"

"None!" she laughed. "Our merges have been matrix free! And the last time that device interfered was joors ago. The energy has long since faded. No, it has been all passion. Which is why I don't mind missing this morning's scheduled check up. Not like our resident medic could tell me anything I don't already know."

"Remember his first assistant? Little green mech?" She handed her the other cube, savoring her own.

"Thought every problem was spark related until the twins delivered those drones. He diagnosed them as spark spire twisted," Elita laughed.

"And screamed himself into stasis when the chest plates opened and no spark," Chromia remembered. "Ratchet was furious! Sideswipe stole his best pumps and remote relays to control them."

"Then Sunstreaker lost the program key to the drones. Instead of cleaning the med bay floors they cleaned the ceiling and got cleaning fluid in every light fixture."

"Shorting them the astro second Ratchet tried turning them on the next morning!" They laughed, sharing memories. Unknown to either of them, a small light flared next to Elita's spark. A pure bright spark made only of her and Optimus' coding, drawing on the high grade flowing through her lines.

_To be continued..._


	15. Chapter 15 First times and losing it

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. They help me to know what readers like or want more of. This chapter moves around a bit as Wheeljack is trying to explain reproducing to the Dinobots and visiting rather than sitting through the entire lecture is more fun. Moreover, if you do not know the subject by now, you did not read the earlier chapters. Lots of history and fun in this one.

Warning: Adult discussions.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**TALKING, EXPLAINING AND NOT REALLY COMMUNICATING WHAT YOU ARE TRYING TO SAY**

**DINOBOT QUARTERS**

Wheeljack vented, embarrassed at the discussion he had to give. His sidebars flashed a multitude of colors as the Dinobots shifted to their bi pedal modes and sat on their stone benches. His white chassis barely rose to their chest plates yet he felt tall as Jetfire with pride at his creation's accomplishments. He noted the room freshly cleaned even as his repressed a smile at the cheerful welcome banner drooping over the main entrance. Grimlock growled, quieting all of them as they faced Wheeljack. Swoop rested on the beam above while Slag and Sludge sat to his left, Snarl on his right.

"Why Solaray not here?" Grimlock asked.

"This is a mech only talk. As your 'father,' it is my responsibility to explain to you. I'm here to talk about reproducing," the civilian scientist stated.

"We know that," Swoop said. He leaned forward, shuttering his optics rapidly.

"You do?" Wheeljack's sidebars flashed pink with embarrassment. Hope rose in his processor the talk would be unnecessary in full details.

"Put paper on scanner," Slag pantomimed the motion with his armored hands.

"Press green button," Sludge smacked the top of his stone bench with his hand.

"And us Dinobots reproduce copy. Elita teach us. Help Teletran," Grimlock stated as though it was common knowledge. Snarl nodded, remaining quiet.

"Transformer reproducing," Wheeljack corrected, a sinking feeling developing in his processor.

"We fit on copier?" Swoop tilted his helm to the side, considering as the others processed the concept.

"It too small," Slag grumbled, "We not fit."

"Me too heavy, me break!" Sludge added, his red optics narrowing.

"Not that type of reproducing," Wheeljack vented, scratching at a cheek plate with his fingers. "Reproducing as in the sparkling essences. Takes a femme and a mech together." They all looked at Grimlock.

"Pretty lights mix. Me Grimlock strong, make ten sparklings," he said.

"Merging makes sparklings but not every time and interfacing is far more common. More pleasurable and what femmes want."

"What interfacing?" Snarl asked, shifting side to side on his bench.

"That is what I am here to explain," Wheeljack reminded.

"Ohh," they all echoed, red optics widening.

"You show me Sludge?"

"I tell!" Wheeljack rushed out. "I talk, you listen then if you have questions we can ask Ratchet. Hound is going to help me with the database files and computer models. Once he gets here. Okay, basic terms first." Digitally he keyed the holographic screen, showing the most basic of transformer parts on it.

**MT ST HILLARY, OREGON STATE, USA**

**EASTERN SLOPE - ARK ACCESS ROAD**

Hound checked his chronometer again and swore. "I'm late and of all times!" His green jeep alt mode raced towards the Ark, careful to keep his wheels closer to the rock side of the narrow road and not the cliff. "Slagging rain floods the lower road. I could make it through but Prime orders it off limits. Have to take the long way around. I could fly but our orders are to conserve fuel. Assisting Wheeljack in teaching mating would probably not qualify as priority fuel use. Whoa!" Tires screeching as brakes locked, the Autobot scout slid to a stop, front bumper bouncing off the down tree. Transforming, he formed up into his bi pedal mode. Grinning and looking around, he hopped then part flew over it to land further up the hillside.

::Hound to Base. Part of the cliff, including one whopper of a tree is down over the road. Pass the warning onward. Wouldn't want Sunstreaker scratching his bumper paint:: Hound

::Confirm warning. Sending team to remove:: Prowl answered the comm frequency with only half his attention, the other half on his sleeping sparkling femme. Her portable recharging unit was within his reach, even as its multiple sensors flowed data into his systems. Smiling, he began dispatching teams to check the access roads.

**DINOBOT QUARTERS**

"How you do that? Interface rod no move once up," Swoop asked, turning his head to the side to see the medical slide from a different angle.

"Screen says so," Snarl added. For once, the other Dinobots were as confused as him.

"You thrust," Wheeljack stated. His cooling fans whirred audibly as his heat built from frustration and not excitement as he slowly progressed through the explanations.

"Thrust? He slow Decepticon seeker," Sludge rumbled.

"Me throw fire and get him good," Slag added.

"Not Thrust the Decepticon but thrust as in," Wheeljack vented deeply, before moving his hips forward lewdly back and forth.

"Dancing? Me see humans do that on disco floor," Swoop recognized.

Sludge tapped his foot as disco music began playing form the sound unit. Wheeljack swiveled from side to side trying to figure out who activated it then backed up as the Dinobots rose to their feet pads and surrounded him.

"Me Grimlock get down!" The warrior pointed towards the ceiling with a hand then down to the floor moving in a small circle as they all started dancing.

**RECREATION ROOM**

Elita glanced up with a guilty look as the doors opened. Her hand instinctively moved over the energon cube, hiding the traces of high grade in the bottom.

"Save any for me fellow trouble makers?" Firestorm greeted, optics watching as Chromia stacked her third empty cube on top of the others.

"Saved you plenty. Disabled the lock so take all you want," she smiled, pointing over her shoulder plate to the wall cabinet.

"Hmm, is that why you have a growing pile of empties when the official limit is one per bot?"

"High grade cubes are mini sized. I'm a femme bot not a mini bot," she chortled, faceplates flushed and warm. She leaned back in her chair, totally relaxed and happy.

"What's the occasion?" The other femme asked, selecting only one cube of high grade before approaching their table.

"Elita telling me her interfacing fantasies about Ratchet."

"I was not!" Elita yelped, straightening in her chair as her blue optics narrowed. She waved all directions rapidly, her mouth plates quivering as she fought for the right words.

"If it involves Ratchet it's not a fantasy but a nightmare," Firestorm quipped, sipping her high grade.

"I have to know one thing," Elita leaned closer.

"Yes, Ultra Magnus is larger than Optimus, and no you cannot verify for yourself," she teased.

"Not! I don't care about that," Elita waved one hand lazily through the air. "Is he loud? Like Optimus when he overloads?"

"I really shouldn't tell you that," she said quietly, her optics dropping towards the floor.

"Come on, we're all femmes and friends here," Chromia encouraged.

"He has a lock on his vocals. Can't reach above an average level unless his battle systems engage," she admitted softly.

"What?"

"Why?"

"One of his first encounters he got rather...enthusiastic. His vocals drowned out all the other couples nearby. Rooms on both sides asked him to find quarters elsewhere and that is how he ended up sharing an apartment with Optimus while working around Iacon. Magnus converted the side room into his quarters with reinforcing soundproofing. Optimus had the main recharge room to himself and only himself. Then Optimus met Elita, only they were Orion and Ariel back then," she grinned at the pink and white armored femme.

She smiled, reminiscing and continued the conversation. "Optimus visited me at my quarters, nearly soundproof though that was not the reason why," Elita said. "They were the bottom floor of an old sparkling nursery. Built right after the end of the Quintesson war and could withstand anything. It was old, drafty but quiet and I was low family," she admitted, her expression fading. "Didn't have any political connections or hidden wealth, worked for what I needed once I reached my fourth shell. Those quarters where the best I could afford. And we could do what we wanted without worrying about any bot overhearing. No bot cared when he arrived or left and Magnus had the apartment all to himself and his friends. Once Optimus became Prime council members and staff surrounded us. However, being Prime also meant private rooms and guards outside who never spoke a word. "

They sipped at the high grade when Chromia suddenly smiled wider. She activated a command line frequency. ::Do you know what would be perfect? Removing that little vocal lock without telling Firestorm or Magnus::

::And the next time they merge::Elita answered, realizing her intent.

::We listen in, or rather, every bot on that floor does!:: Chromia's mental tone wrapped in laughter before focusing outward.

**MEDICAL BAY**

"Maternity bay, Chief Sparkling Deliverologist," Ratchet greeted without turning around. Optics and hands focused on the sparkling shell on the bench in front of him, he tilted his white armored helm to the right indicating the empty metal chair. "Be there in a breem. Unless you are a femme needing to confirm you are carrying. First borrow a wrench and whap any interface rods the next time you see one. Second, fill out the intake form, including which way you think the mech will offline into stasis while watching you deliver."

"Feeling overwhelmed?" Optimus teased, settling gently onto the chair. It creaked but held as he fully relaxed, conscious of his size and mass as one of the larger mechs.

"I became a medic to fix damaged mechs, not turn my protoform into a wired mess trying to cope with sparklings smarter than a parental unit. " He hid his head in his white armored hands before venting hard and facing Optimus. "I'm talking about the ten sparklings of Grimlock and Solaray."

"Smarter than the Dinobots? Every mech and femme here is smarter. Even the Decepticon seekers," he chuckled.

Ratchet nodded, his look serious. "Laugh now Prime, but it will become an issue later. They will develop like normal sparklings. Only they have the potential to surpass their parental mech. Vector Sigma gave the Dinobots spark sizes to power their larger forms. Add that power with Solaray's intelligence, one of the highest in any femme."

"She is?" he shuttered his optics rapidly in surprise.

"Code writing for our species is a rare gift. She may lack in size and speed on the battlefield but her skills enable our transforms and subspace pullers to be faster and smoother than the best programming Soundwave could create. Her formal title on Cybertron was Starblade. The highest civilian rank available before the war."

"I never realized," he admitted, rubbing the back of his blue armored helm with his hand.

"Moreover, if the current situation is any indication, they are not letting them out of their sight. Solaray is adapting quickly to her spark mate, the leader of said Dinobots. She would not leave even for Wheeljack's talk. Spending the time recharging then preparing the sparkling nursery in a side room. Being a parental mech is a responsibility she is taking seriously, and I know better than to separate a femme from her younglings. Can you? "

Optimus hesitated, contemplating having to take the sparklings. He pictured Grimlock hugging his mate, muzzle bowed with grief, Solaray's optics overflowing with lubricant, tiny arms outstretched from her sparklings reaching back to her as they are carried off. He rubbed at his faceplates with an armored hand. 'And to think I only wanted to fulfill Elita's wish for hot sparking,' he processed silently.

"It gets better Prime. Wheeljack is teaching them about reproduction and interfacing, a disaster in the making," the medic said.

"Why would that not work out?"

"Do you want me to answer chronologically or alphabetically?' Ratchet asked.

"If they learn the why of reproducing they can learn to control themselves," Optimus said.

"Like you control your interface urges?"

"I can control," he stated regally.

"Uh huh. That why you have a batch, herd, flock of sparklings? Hmm, our language has twins, trine and troop. Troop of sparklings by Prime. Sounds like a B grade human movie on a late night cable channel," Ratchet teased.

"Blame the Matrix," he grumbled, shifting his wide blue armored legs closer together.

"Blame fixes nothing. I still process you are a cable's thickness from urge syndrome."

"Can't femmes develop the condition?"

"No. The codes of their merge capacitors are different from ours. Case in point, the only alteration they allow to their protoforms is the widening or upgrade of a valve to accommodate a larger or smaller spark mate. Yes, before you ask. Elita had to upgrade her valve opening and surrounding plating to accommodate you. And no, I was not the one to do the install. Do not look at me like that. I do a femme exam to ensure her health and nothing more. Unless you want my addled processing assistant seeing and putting his fingers in her," he explained.

"Stop!" Optimus commanded, his venting audible.

"You didn't process I would ignore their health because they are femmes and I am a mech, even professionally trained for all forms of our species?"

"That is not an issue I ever concerned myself with," he admitted.

"Ironhide knows and stays to watch Chromia's exams when he can."

"Doesn't trust you?" He guessed.

"To know her health. He may be a lug head that puts off his own maintenance and repairs but keeps an obsessive optic on hers. Reading my reports is not enough. He wants to know. You're free to attend Elita the next time," he stated, his vocal tone bland.

"No, not necessary. I am needed elsewhere," his tall figure spun rapidly on his feet pads, practically running through the med bay doors. His audios missed the sound of chuckling behind him.

**RECREATION ROOM**

"I bet the first time Magnus interfaced with a femme, he would've turned off the lights, turned off his audios, turned off his optics, and stayed frozen for the first hour while the femme did 'naughty stuff' to him," Chromia twirled the half empty cube on the tabletop while chuckling.

"Not exactly," Firestorm smirked.

"And?" Elita verbally prodded.

"His first femme was a medic. At least he thought she was."

"I have got to hear this one," Chromia said, adding another empty high-grade cube to her column.

"He waited a long time once he fully matured. The charges in his system kept building and he worked them off. Best welder on the bridge teams they ever had. Then he reached a point where the charges barely eased off."

"And he didn't?" Chromia winked an optic, making an up and down jerking hand motion.

"No. Too dignified and embarrassed to take care of it himself. Anyway," she paused to sip her energon. "It reached a critical level. Overheating, nearly incoherent he stumbled out of the temporary crew quarters and down the hallway. Half way there, the femme medic appears, half dragging half guiding him to a nearby room. Her room."

"And she had her way with him? Lucky femme," Chromia snickered.

"Even better, she didn't. A mech that desperate for release can damage himself and his partner. No, she was a cunning femme. Opened her port and let her arousal musk reach his sensory guides. He overloaded right there. Comes back online on his back plates on the floor, his groin plating off and she is cleaning him, checking for damage.

"Let me process, he is totally embarrassed and curls into a ball to hide?"

"Am I telling the story or you?" Firestorm grumbled good-naturedly. "He comes too, still revving and needy. She magnetically pulses him trying to ease his heated core and it has the opposite effect. He overloads quickly, offlining. He comes back online, only this time she is astride his hips, barely able to cover them with her smaller frame. And that was before he received the military upgrades into Ultra Magnus."

"Medics should never take advantage of a patient like that," Elita frowned.

"She wasn't. A full medic I mean. Turns out she was a medic student intern earning her junior apprentice rank. Helped install a new power coupler on him joors before and noticed the elevated charge. Made a few discreet inquiries, monitored his general health and waited for him to overheat. Then went looking for him."

They laughed. "Chased and caught!"

"Caught is right. They interfaced until neither could move then spark merged. According to her, it was accidental. His spark energy overwhelmed hers before she realized her chest plates had opened. Then he curled into a ball shape and wouldn't move for over a breem."

"What happened?"

"What do you process? She could not tell anybot. She triggered forced medical stasis. They recharged together until her roommate returned. Between them, they got him cleaned up and back on his feet pads. Then she reported for repairs, once she could stagger into med bay, smiling all the way. "

"Whatever happened to her? I would love to have a processor that devious on my team," Elita smirked.

"Lost during the war. Worked on a rescue ship. The Decepticons targeted it, firing a warning shot. Only it hit dead center through their power core. One astro second she was tending the wounded the next in the matrix with the entire crew and all the wounded. Never knew when it happened."

"Pit spawned 'Cons. What a waste," Chromia ground out, both armored hands clenching into fists.

"War is always a waste," Firestorm vented deeply. "Magnus never repeated their night together but they remained friends. Once he crept out of his room to report for work. Took him joors to look a femme in the optic, fearing they would somehow know and jump his chassis."

"Hence his comments in the hallway," Chromia realized then blinked as she stared through the empty space where Elita had been. She looked lower and realized the pink and white armored femme had slipped into recharge on the table surface.

"How much did she have?" Firestorm leaned closer, audios intent on the steady rhythm of the other femme's systems.

"Not enough to do that. Think we should call Ratchet?"

"And disturb her first real rest? Nope. No spark mate, no screaming first shells and no one demanding her time? I would recharge too in her place. We can check back later. I have duty soon. "

_To be continued..._


	16. Chapter 16 Good femmes and bad Dinobots

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Please leave all you want. It helps me to know what readers like or want more of. Thanks to fellow writer, Phoenix13 for her quote on Prime being too big and femmes leaving. More group fun this chapter before moving on to the newest sparkling arrival then back to Prime and Elita getting it on, and on and on. A shorter update to tie you over as the action moves along. I WILL be updating "Busy Bee" and the Mikeala fics shortly.

**DINOBOT QUARTERS**

"Me right size?" Grimlock asked, looking down at his limp interface rod. His crotch plate cover rested in his left hand as all the Dinobots peered in to look. The red and gold armor of his bi pedal mode provided the perfect background to his silver appendage.

"Yes," Wheeljack's sidebars flashed almost nova before turning bright red. His optics remained fixed on the stone wall to the side. "I gave you all standard mech interface rods, no need to compare! Same size as me, Ratchet or any mech our strut builds."

"Why not bigger? We bigger armor," Sludge asked.

"Femmes don't like bigger that is too big. They can be injured and hurt and will tell you 'no' in a spark pulse the next time you ask for their company. If they even talk to you. Remember, there are fewer femmes compared to mechs and they have long lasting memory cores. Your size," his sidebars deepened to near purple as his embarrassment continued. "Fits them right now." The Dinobots considered the concept of any big being too big then spoke among themselves in growls and clicks. Wheeljack took the moment of inattention to advance the data projector to the next slide set.

"Swoop have question," sounded from the ceiling rafters.

The civilian scientist blinked his optics, looking straight up into the others optics, though they were upside down. Wheeljack stepped back to be out from under the Dinobot flyer as he hung down from the rafters by his feet claws.

"What is your question Swoop?"

"Me fit you?"

"No! You could but I am a mech and you are a mech. You should try with a willing femme. Ask nicely and if they say no, walk away. If yes, let her guide you on what to do. A femme is what you need to fully activate your coding to overload, especially the first time. We have a lot of material still to cover and I am sure one of them would be willing to assist later with a practical demonstration. Or ask Ratchet, he can help as our Chief Medic," the civilian scientist explained, wondering why Hound was not there to help and provide a distraction.

"Me no understand," Sludge complained, swinging his helm side to side.

"That cause you stupid," Slag stated.

"Me say you stupid. You not know."

"How prove you know?" Snarl challenged, moving closer to the other mech.

"Me show you what to do with Wheeljack," he roared.

"Me? No, not me," Wheeljack sputtered, raising both hands defensively.

In the elevator, Hound winced at the time reading. He watched the floor numbers highlighted in the control panel as he descended. 'Wheeljack is going to upgrade my holo emitter to a trash compactor, I know it. I'm late, I'm late, I am so late.' The elevator doors opened onto the short stone hallway, the distance disappearing under his running strides. The door slid open, the apology forming on his green armored lip plates when Hound literally stumbled to a stop, blue optics going wide at the scene inside.

"ARRRRGGGHHHH!"

**RECREATION ROOM HALLWAY**

"Bout time femme, never known you to go off comm and hang around the recreation room. Firestorm left a breem ago," Ironhide's deeper vocal greeted Chromia. His red armored from leaned against the wall, his optics staring at her feet pads before his gaze traveled up her entire contrasting blue armored chassis to her optics.

"Scan anything you like soldier?" she challenged, stepping far enough into the hallway to let the doors close behind her with a whisking sound.

"Everything in view," he smirked, moving forward to wrap his armored arms around her. She snuggled close, feeling his spark pulse under his armor. He sniffed, taking an air sampling before chuckling. "High grade? Need to relax?"

"Not me but it is your fault," she murmured.

"Mine?" he nipped playfully at her neck cables before releasing her.

"You did tell me how to digitally unlock the cabinet locks Prowl installed," she said, glancing back over her shoulder plate at the closed recreation room. Left alone and locked inside, Elita recharged peacefully on the table.

"I tell you lots more than that," Ironhide chuckled, gesturing for his spark mate to walk alongside.

Chromia tilted her helm to the side, blue optics bright as she moved. "Not as smoothly as Ultra Magnus tells his femme. He said," she glanced around, ensuring with optics and scanners no other bots were present in the hallway. "'Femme, you have a choice to make. Feel exquisite pleasure that will vibrate up your struts for orns or turn and walk away, wondering what could be as your valve aches for my strength."

Ironhide burst out laughing, pounding an armored fist on his own red thigh plate. "That old soldier! He stole that from Optimus. First time Elita challenged our fearless leader why she should be his, Optimus used that line. Been working on it awhile and got it right finally."

"Why awhile?" She asked.

"He had a hard time keeping straight faceplates when saying it and not stumbling over his words. He believes in honesty and the gentle approach not bragging. Only mech that uses the wash racks alone when he can to hide his assets. It's his size and I'm not talking his protoform either," Ironhide vented deeply. "He is big. Very big. He has had experiences with a femme changing her processor once he had revealed himself. She backs out of being on his berth, leaving him standing there with full desire and an empty room. And that was as Orion not Optimus Prime."

The femme rubbed at her optics, feeling the quick overcharge of high grade beginning to build in her systems. "Never thought of that complication. I heard his size was beyond normal."

"Every bot has heard that. Did not stop the femmes from throwing themselves at him with that forewarning. One even removed his plating once with a mini laser hid against her palm plating. One good scan and she changed her mind, and then told the other femmes. Took him orns to find one willing and he will not touch mechs. Even when they have offered. The mechs believed his 'I only interface with femmes' was a line translating you are not my type and not the truth of his obsession with femme chasing."

"I liked your line to me better," she smirked, her cooling fans notching to a higher speed as more high grade processed.

"It wasn't a line," Ironhide wiggled his optic arches at her. "I've kept that promise."

"True. Your rod and spark has more than fulfilled my desires, anytime and anywhere," Chromia admitted.

"Even there?" he stopped walking, pointing toward the sealed doors of Wheeljack's lab. "You did tell me you wanted fragging before, during and after me borrowing the matrix," he reminded, overriding the lock. His experienced sensors missed none of the signs of her overcharge, triggering a warmth across his recessed interfacing.

"That was orns ago I said that," Chromia reminded, following him inside then watching as the doors closed and locked behind them.

"You never specified 'after' being short termed 'Mia. As the humans say, 'They sparked happily ever after," he said, his hand sliding down her blue armored thigh before sliding inwards. "You're revving and I am not leaving you without relief. Be easier to work the energy off than wait it out."

"What if something big blows up? This is Wheeljack's lab," she said, glancing around at parts, half-built devices, containers and his datapads with half lit notes covering every surface. Char marks and missing sections out of the walls, floor and even the ceiling did nothing to reassure her.

"Oh, something big will go off."

**AUTOBOT MED BAY**

Ratchet glanced up as the double doors to his med bay slid open, jumping to his feet pads and rushing forward as the pair hobbled through. The short halted steps with twitchy movements identified pain to his systems faster than the soft moans accompanying the short steps. "What happened?"

"He caught some tail," Hound said, nearly carrying Wheeljack.

Ratchet choked on the air in his intakes, his multi-layered optics scanning at Wheeljack's hips as he helped Hound transfer the mech to the nearest medical berth. Medical readings showed the crotch cover intact and even dusty from non-use. Puzzled, he ran the scans repeatedly. "I scan no damage, no physical contact at all. No intrusion or transferred fluids. We need to flip Wheeljack over. See if there is backside damage. " Both sets of armored hands supported Wheeljack's upper and lower body to turn him on his side plates. "Here is intact too. What the slag happened?"

"Sludge fought...Snarl. Both transformed...and he..." Wheeljack gasped out, his sidebars flashing weakly with the pain as they balanced him.

"He ducked as Snarl swung his armored tail, missing and hitting Wheeljack. I got there just as he went airborne into the wall," Hound vented, holding Wheeljack's hand tightly in his own. Both missed the exasperated look the medic gave them.

"Caught tail indeed. Help me turn him onto his front plates completely. Gently now. Wheeljack, listen to me and do not move. Your neural column is nearly cracked through from the impact with the wall. Repairable but your recovery will be awhile, injecting pain dampeners now," Ratchet said, the flowing energon in his system enabling medical transforms shifting his hands into tools.

"I'm sorry 'Jack. I should have been there sooner," Hound apologized.

"It's okay...been... worse," Wheeljack ground out before slipping into stasis as the pain suppressant coding overwhelmed his systems. His sidebars flared brightly then dimmed out.

"Apologize later. He needs prepping for surgical welding before that cable degrades further," Ratchet ordered. He began stringing energon drip lines as Hoist and First Aid ran in through the double doors. "Where are the Dinobots now?"

"In their quarters. Teletran is playing cartoons nonstop to keep them occupied and Solaray remained in recharge next room over. I left her an urgent comm message and instructions to call for help if the Dinobots get rowdy," Hound explained, keeping out of the medics' way.

**RECREATION ROOM**

Optimus frowned, receiving the same functional but busy message from Elita on his internal relay. His large red and blue chassis hesitated before the recreation room doors, his systems detecting trace fumes of high grade in the hallway as well as her energy signature alone inside the room. Making a decision, he overrode the lock and strode in. Armored hands swinging to the sides, his chest plating proudly pushed out as his wide hips moved with the power and strength of his strides Optimus the Prime strutted proudly before his femme. Then the soft exhale of her air vents snapped him to reality.

"She's recharging? How much high grade did she consume?" He blinked in disbelief while counting the containers. "That many empty cubes divided by three, no wait. Firestorm only has one, barely enough to taste, big femme that she is. Same as Ultra Magnus. Therefore, divide by two and whoa. No wonder Elita is out." He tilted his helm to the side considering before crouching down. One blue armored hand slid between her aft plating and the chair as his other hand slid under her armored legs. With a hiss of hydraulics and shifting of metal gears, he lifted her up against his chest plates.

"Keep her image as a respectable commander and mine intact," he smiled, feeling Elita's spark pulse in echo of his. The wall slid to the side, revealing a hidden entryway. "Prowl is right, these back corridors are good security. Next stop, our private quarters. "

_To be continued..._


	17. Chapter 17 After the femme party

Author's Notes: Thanks for reading and yes, last chapter was unique. Please review it anyways. Blame monthly hormones, work stress and a wicked sense of humor that escaped out for a moment. * _looks at the bouncing box strapped down with heavy chains_* It's locked back away for now. A breem is 8.3 minutes, a joor is 6.5 hours and an orn is 13 days approximately and a vorn is 83 years human time.

**PERSONAL QUARTERS**

**OPTIMUS AND ELITA'S ROOMS**

Optimus regarded the femme lying on his recharge berth with contentment. The most beautiful, battle seasoned and commanding kick aft femme and she was his. Her spark pulsed in harmony with his alone and any mech stupid enough to lay a unwanted armored hand on her lost it. And by her own cyber dagger no less. He stood a little taller, his cables a little tighter with pride in his spark mate. Truly the equal to a Prime.

His armored hand moved, tracing the straight lines of her helm crest and down across her cheek plates before he leaned in to brush his lip plates against hers. His facial sensors twitched at the tingle echo of high grade. "Dearest, next time call me first. I will be there when you need me, I promise." His optics noted the stiff way her legs bent and he winced. 'It's my fault for not ordering Ratchet here or saying no to desire. The minute she wakes we are going to med bay. Together.'

Priority command symbols flashed across his optics, interrupting. His hand moved, tapping his blue antenna spinner to lock down any external sounds as Elita continued recharging.

::Report:: Optimus ordered, switching to Prime in an astro second as battle systems came online.

::We have a situation. The Dinobots injured Wheeljack, accidentally they claim. I have a report from Hound that indicates extreme careless and negligence on their part:: Prowl

:: Secure the Dinobots in their quarters. They will be dealt with. Solaray?:: Optimus

::Here on the command deck, giving me an audio full. She is mad enough to spit Grimlock and roast him alive.:: Prowl

::She has my permission, save me the effort. How is Wheeljack?:: Optimus

::Out of surgery and stable. Schedules are already arranged to cover his and the Dinobots duties in their absences. And I am still waiting on last week's command report. Or did your sparklings drop the datapad off the desktop again?:: Prowl

::Actually it was Ironhide's little femme that kicked it off. Mine were taking apart my laser pointer guide. I will update the official reports as I can and forward them. Anything else?:: Optimus

::I have personal time scheduled with my sparkling this evening. Hoist is sitting the night shift. I'll be driving around the lake with her to watch the sunset. She loves the colors and the evening sounds. Before I go off shift, shall I have the outdoor pits cleaned and prepped for roasted Dinobot?:: Prowl

::Not yet. But I would stock up on the basting sauce. Keep me updated, I will be in my office:: Optimus sent, closing the comm line. His gaze lingered on Elita still recharging before he turned, leaving the room.

**MEDICAL BAY**

**RATCHET'S OFFICE**

Ratchet watched Wheeljack's mechanical readings on the main monitor, confirming the neural weld solidifying as it cooled. "I can bring him out of stasis in eight breems if he doesn't pull out on his own. Be a few joors to resume normal duties and absolutely no transforming for an orn." The medic flipped the datapad opened, bringing up the day's cycle. Halfway through the first section, his optics darted towards the wall clock before frowning. "Where is First Aid? I sent him on a simple errand." A single digital command activated his internal communication frequency, paging his medical assistant.

::Yes sir?:: First Aid answered almost immediately.

::Did you secure his lab yet? I want you to review my surgical notes, get a better understanding of what you helped with :: Ratchet sent, double checking Wheeljack's spark readings.

::No sir, it was...full:: First Aid

The chief medic frowned, recognizing when his assistant encountered a problem he felt unable to deal with. ::Full of smoke, fire or disaster?:: Ratchet asked, imagining all types of experiments run amok from radiation to dimensional warp holes.

::Ironhide and Chromia were there:: First Aid

::They qualify as a disaster. What were they doing?:: Ratchet

::Each other:: First Aid quipped.

::$&#*! Those two! Order them out. They have private quarters, with locking doors for that! Are they in front of you right now?: Ratchet

:: No sir! I'm on the Command deck, filing a request with Red Alert for him to deal with them as Ark security:: First Aid

::Good point. He gets paid to handle security issues, including those two. Return to med bay and call me if Wheeljack even twitches. I have an appointment with Prime:: Ratchet

**COMMAND DECK**

**PRIME'S OFFICE**

"You do know where your desk is. Probably the only place you haven't fragged that femme of yours," Ratchet teased as he strode into the others office. He slid the heavy metal chair out, transferring a pile of datapads from the seat onto the desk, thereby missing the guilty look flashing across Optimus' faceplates.

"And you brought that to my attention in person and not over the comm why?" The ancient leader sat back in his chair, folding both his armored hands together on the desktop.

"You requested trans fluid from the supplies. Again."

"I'm getting low and you do recommend keeping up on all fluids," Optimus gently reminded.

"It serves one purpose. Trans fluid is used to cool a mech's system to prevent overheating while interfacing and is released to the female where her system draws it in. From there it is converted into her fuel processing, any extra dumped into a holding tank for removal. Also a prerequisite for producing a sparkling. The extra energy to power the new essence to form on her spark."

"I know that," Optimus rumbled, his blue optics narrowing as his hands unfolded and swiveled to lay flat on his desk.

"Did you also know you've requested more of it in the last three orns than the last vorn we were on Cybertron!" Ratchet

"And how much have you used with Moonracer lately? Enough to create two femme sparklings."

"That's irrelevant. We are talking about you and your attempts to build your own sparkling army."

"Blame the matrix. And it's our family, not an army," Optimus began tapping one set of his fingers on the desktop.

"I'm blaming your inability to keep you cod piece on. And don't use the excuse Elita removes it for you," Ratchet warned.

"I wasn't going to," he stated regally.

"I have considered welding your interface rod to your frame, sealing your chest plates shut, locking down her reproductive protocols, deleting her reproductive programs, separating you on different planets, and sealing the Matrix into the deepest darkest pit below the Dinobot quarters."

"There are no pits below their quarters, yet. Grimlock will probably create one to hide from Solaray when she returns," Optimus reminded.

"I was making a point."

"Are the sparklings in danger? Are they being neglected or mistreated in any way?"

"Absolutely not. I monitor them weekly and know every time you lug heads overfeed them energon treats," Ratchet grumbled.

"Are the femmes enslaved or forced in any way to bear their sparklings or take care of them?" he challenged.

"No and don't call Prowl a femme."

Optimus' lip plates twitched at the wry humor. "As I stated earlier, blame the Matrix of Leadership. Or rather the ancients who inhabit it. Including an ancient female Prime who thought Prowl would make a good parental unit. Why argue with their wisdom?"

"They don't have to deal with mechs, I do. Ultra Magnus hid in his quarters or his office rather than face the rest of us when he first found out. Sunstreaker is enthralled with his offspring, spending credits on the best armor paints for shells they don't even have yet. His twin is grumbling about missing weapons practices but committed to help. Prowl is practically an over wired femme. I fear for anything that threatens his sparkling Mira. His logical tactician mind would ensure there would not be enough left to identify of said threat. And Jazz," his multi faceted blue optics rolled upward.

"And Jazz?"

"Has asked every femme to spark with him long enough for only a sparkling and they all refused. They are flattered but not interested in a one night merge. He's worried about being offlined as the last of the Allspark guardians and wants to raise a replacement. If said replacement finds a femme and breeds another generation beyond his own, Jazz would be dancing across the Ark's hull," Ratchet explained.

"What happened to the mechs competing over the latest weapon upgrade or scouting assignment?"Optimus groaned.

"What happened to our Prime being known for his reasoning, battle skills and unending encouragement instead of fragging his femme?"

"My skills are not in question," he grumbled.

"I question your self control not your skills. In fact," the medic grinned, one side of his lip plates higher than the other. "I bet one hundred thousand credits you cannot resist spark merging with Elita for one earth week. Interface all you want, no," he held up a white armored hand. "Interface all she wants but not one spark merge. And no cheating. Chest plates stay close, the energy contained. You cannot even mention the word, start pushing your hips or grabbing her aft unless she starts it. "

"For a mech with precise skills you have a crude way of describing loving activities. But you have a bet. I will not commence loving gestures leading up to and through a spark merge with my spark mate for one earth week. She is free to start anything she desires on my chassis. And when I win, you handle the Dinobot reproduction talk and help me modify a few of my parts for her enjoyment," Optimus countered.

"Agreed. Though a complete processor replacement is a drastic change just to impress your femme," the medic said. He ignored the nasty glare aimed his direction. "Now, how do I spend those credits? One hundred thousand credits is a lot to enjoy," he rubbed his armored hands together.

A steady beeping on the wall unit interrupted. "Med bay to command," First Aid's vocal sounded over the intercom. "Wheeljack is out of stasis."

**MEDICAL BAY**

"I am curious, why did you turn me over to scan me?" Wheeljack mumbled. His sidebars flashed faintly as systems ran at half power. On his front, padded blocks kept his chassis immobile.

"First thing you ask is about that? The Dinobots have the grace of a rock and the intelligence of a mountainside. If they could not understand how to mate, they probably stood on you while watching cartoons. I was checking for a Dinobot shaped claw print on your armor, nothing else," Ratchet said.

"I tried teaching them the basics, not that I'm an expert."

"I noticed. While you were in stasis I did a full exam 'Jack," his multi faceted optics narrowed as his tone deepened. "Your transfluid nearly solidified! Not interfacing is your choice but flush it out and refill on schedule. Do you know how long it takes to scrape all that out? Your recessed parts were jammed tight with it. Why?" He moved to the front of the medical berth, squatting down to lean in face plates to face plates.

Wheeljack's sidebars flashed bright pink in embarrassment. "I lost track."

"Tell that to another medic that has never met you. Or never repaired you after a 'I don't know why it did that but the flash and boom were impressive' type experiment. I know you ignore changing it out as unimportant compared to discovering the next power source or upgrading an ion rifle. Either totally disengage your systems or add a flushing routine into your calendar. Design a reminder bot for all I care. But don't forget. And if you ever design an interfacing part for Prime again I'll weld your aft to the nearest Dinobot," Ratchet threatened, straightening up and moving back to monitor the digital readings.

"He told you about that?"

"What part of 'chief medic' does no bot around here understand?" Ratchet grumbled, crossing his arms across his extended chest front. "The smallest systems change is to be approved by me not discovered after the use of it. And you have a visitor waiting to see you."

"Me? Who would be waiting?" the inventor puzzled.

"The entire base has monitored your condition. I chased away Bumblebee, the twins and several other mechs from outside those doors. The only stubborn one who refused is Hound. He blames himself for being late. Go easy on him. From the situation described, both of you would have been patients in here."

"The Dinobots are like sparklings. They didn't understand what they were doing," Wheeljack vented.

"Primus help us when they do."

**PERSONAL QUARTERS**

**OPTIMUS AND ELITA'S ROOMS**

Elita onlined slowly, her blue optics focusing on the ceiling above. "Our quarters," she murmured, feeling warm and relaxed. Then she shifted her leg. "Owww! Tightened cables!" she yelped. Going still, medical warnings flashed across her vision.

"Hurts doesn't it? Stay still," Moonracer's vocal ordered. Rolling her head towards to the side, Elita recognized the sharp shooter femme standing by the bunk. The injector in her hand filled with silver fluid as she grinned down at her commander. "Firestorm cornered me in the hallway. Asked I check on you. Good thing too." Without warning, she flipped her hand, driving the injector deep into Elita's hip armor gap. Elita screamed, arching nearly off the berth as the medical code flooded across her systems. Instinctively her spark and processor reached for her mate, his startled presence flowing back.

"Easy there," Moonracer reassured with a firm hand holding her down while pulling the injector out. "You should be in med bay having those cables heated and restrung. Instead, the coding orders your system to draw on energy reserves for realigning your lower transform. Battle field charging at its best, used it a few times myself."

Elita's spark remained constant; the sparkling essence nestled deep inside her covering field. Protocols enforced its survival over the coding adjustments, opening all reserve tanks to ensure protective measures. Without advanced medical equipment, the enhanced tingle fluid never registered as it converted.

The sharp shooter's optics shuttered rapidly as the trans scan shimmer literally flowed Elita's metal from hip gear to foot pad. Her optics dimmed out, causing Moonracer to nearly spark attack. Then her optics brightened to normal.

"You ever...do that ...again," Elita's vocalizer stuttered as her metal plating smoothed into place.

"What?" Moonracer leaned in closer even though her audios would have caught the softest whispered word.

"You'll be... a...single...mom," Elita threatened.

Laughing, Moonracer patted her friend's armor plating. "That's my commander. Know the fastest way to the spark. Though Ratchet can handle himself. Rest for a few breems then up and at them femme. I need to sneak this injector back to med bay. Comm if you need anything," she instructed before leaving.

Elita blinked, systems flashing medical codes across her optics. She deleted them without decoding the sequence, sitting up to rub at her leg armor. "Rest? After that? Never ask her for a fix up ever again," she muttered, sliding off berth. Or tried to. Her legs folded under her as the joint gears failed to lock. Collapsing down, she braced against the berth with both hands before rising shakily onto her feet pads. "One step then two. You know how to femme." Gears quivered but held. The short distance to the outer room never seemed so far. Two more steps through the doorway and the nearest chair was within reach. The outer door whisked open before heavy treads crossed the main room. An astro second of distraction as she raised her helm to look and her leg gears failed. Strong armored hands caught her effortlessly. Familiar red armor filled her vision.

"Elita! I felt you reach for me, what's wrong?" Optimus asked, his optics and systems scanning her.

"Gears are sliding," she said. Hydraulics hissing, he effortlessly held her upright.

"Do you need med bay?" He asked, easing her grip as she balanced.

"I need you."

"What happened? A cable snap?" he half held, half leaned over her.

"Forced realignment on my lower half," she admitted.

Growling, he locked onto her upper arm plates, pulling her nearly into him. "Are you processor cracked? Realignment is dangerous! What are you doing? First high grade and now this? You listen to me femme. You are mine and I will not lose you in any way. Whatever it takes, you are not leaving my side until I know you are normal functioning. Do you understand? I cannot lose you. Whatever it takes I will do whether you agree or not."

Her blue optics narrowed as her hands braced against his armored forearm plates. He vented, ready for the yelling, threats or an energy spike warning of a weapon dropping out of subspace. Instead she smiled up at him.

"That's the Orion I remember," Elita murmured, her fingers stroking across his armor. Playfully she leaned over to nip at his finger joints before he released her. Still smiling, she took a step back then kicked his shin full combat force with an arched footpad.

"Owww!" he yelped, lifting the now dented leg in the air. "Lita! Why?"

"Being daft processor. Do you know how many mechs scan me when they think I am not aware? Fantasize about being with me. And you!"she glared.

"Me what?"

"Pleasuring me until I can't stand and now it's all I process," Elita admitted, folding her arms across her chest plates. "I need your touch on my armor, wanting to feel you in my deepest core instead of being able to concentrate on my work. We have how many sparklings? More than I could ever have envisioned. And I would spark a thousand more to be with you in their creation. I don't even see mechs as mechs, my optics see only you."

"And?"

"And we have responsibilities, duties we must fulfill as commanders and Autobots, not to chase our own pleasures. I have a backlog of official reports to complete," she said.

"That's what assistants and second in command officers are for," Optimus smirked. "I'll make you a deal. I will frag you senseless as often as you want for the next week when you want. In my office, here, wherever."

"And if wherever is the command deck?" she teased.

"Even there, if you don't mind causing a processor crash in the others while watching us," he chuckled, placing his footpad back on the floor and testing it. "But you must be the one to instigate our activities and only interfacing."

"No spark merging? Since when?" A pout formed across her lip plates.

"Since the Matrix interferes and I will not risk you unnecessarily carrying sparkling essences," Optimus stated, the firmness of his tone final.

"It's not a risk," she countered.

"Don't argue femme," he commanded, moving to grab and swing the nearest chair around. He sat on it facing her.

"Or what?" She challenged.

"This," he said then snapped his battlemask together as he lunged for her, grabbing her and flipping her forward as he sat back down. Caught off guard, she half fell, half draped over his legs. One armored hand pinned her upper body in place as the other hovered in the air over her aft.

"You act like a sparkling," he grunted, holding her wiggling frame in place. "You get treated like one." The hand in the air descended, spanking her squarely on the aft.

_To be continued..._


	18. Chapter 18 Whips, rods and damaged desks

Author's Notes: The original version of this chapter totally crashed and wrecked being too dark and otherworldly, hence the major rewrite. Instead of exploring the darkness of the matrix, we return to the light sparked fun of Optimus and Elita's relationship. Please review and enjoy the new fun.

For a smexi hot and detailed bondage scene, read Phoenix13's _Scent of the Future Special Edition Chapter_ 3 for padded cuffs and more. Onward to not knowing what you are getting yourself into when arguing with your mate. Especially a femme with rose colored armor.

**AUTOBT PERSONAL QUARTERS**

**OPTIMUS AND ELITA'S ROOMS**

The final swat on her aft rang metal to metal as the only sound. Elita's swearing silencing by the third, her threats fading with the fifth and now, the eighth smack to her warming metal plated bottom met silence. The astro second he released the pressure holding her over his knees she shifted upright, practically bounding away to her feet pads.

"Why?" Elita asked, rubbing her aft with an armored hand. Cooling fans notched higher as she backed away. The narrowing of her optics, the flexing of her hand made him wary. An upset femme bothered down to his spark, a mad femme could rip that same spark out.

"Ariel," he deliberately used her older name. "Over the thousands of years I have talked to you. Asked you, yelled at you, threatened you, attempted to bribe, even had you locked in our quarters and still you engage in risky behavior I do not approve of."

"You are not my parental mech that I need your approval for my actions," she stated, determined not to let him detect her arousal. No other mech would dare discipline her beyond words. The only one stupid enough to try to brig her as a punishment disappeared off his next shift to be discovered later in his bare protoform, hanging upside down his own security office. But Optimus completely dominating her, turned the pain into an aphrodisiac.

"No, I am your sparkmate. Since what I tried before with words didn't work, I processed a different course of action," he rose off the chair to his towering full height, his chest plates prominent as he braced, hips wide arms back.

"What about your behavior? I watch our troop of sparklings while you redline from low energon in the hallway. Later, sneaking into med bay to treat you for a blown hip coupler, again low energon. Even a human child knows enough to ask for food if they cannot find it themselves," Elita countered, crossing both arms across her chest.

He chuckled at her exasperated expression. "Valid points but your legs could never hold my weight for a spanking. I do have a processing line of code however that should even our dimensional differences."

"Even? You are a Prime. Everything about you is designed for you to win. Me? Rebuilt focused on one purpose, command. Every other femme in my command has heavier armor, more battle skills and what do I have? The ability to stop time in a small area for a small amount of time with big consequences," Elita argued.

"Then let me show you," he rumbled. An armor plated arm outstretched towards her as the other reached behind his armor, activating the hoist chains in the ceiling to descend.

"Are those for me? Truss me up like a turbo fox? Am I not confined enough with this existence?" She vented, rubbing her aft one last time before turning to face him. The warmth between her legs grew, lubricant forming.

"These are for me. Secure me and do as you want. I will not resist."

"And what is it I am supposed to do? I cannot hurt you. I love you," she admitted, the softness in her optics hiding the increasing passion.

"Then love me. On the berth, I take command, pleasuring you. Show me what you can do femme," Optimus spoke the request with the strength of a command as he closed the padded cuffs around his own wrists.

Venting softly, the femme moved closer, wrapping her armored arms around his hips before letting her weight rest against his solid frame. "All the times I wanted to dominate you and I can't process what to do. Strip your armor and climb you, sliding down your shaft? Use my hands and lip plates to bring you to overload? Lower you to your knee plates, my chassis bending over in front of you to spike me? You can thrust into my valve but not touch anywhere else?"

"It all sounds good," he murmured, his interface rod beginning to activate underneath the crotch plate cover.

"And too common. How about expanding our activities?" She moved away, the lightness of her tone worrying him.

"Expanding? " he murmured, the pressure against his crotch plate increasing to be near painful.

With a creaking hinge the spare corner cabinet opened, her hands tugging at the base. Silently it slid out, the top opening to display stacked rows of wrapped items inside. "Behold, an adult toy chest."

"Is that...are they...your sex toys?" His engine stuttered with disbelief.

"Pit no! You know better than that! Nothing in this box touches my valve or me. No, our favorite couple owns these. After a power core overheated and scarred Ironhide's rod, Ratchet confiscated their assortment. Any not in current use safely stashed here beyond the medic's reach. Chromia asks for the box, I do not ever ask specifics," Elita rummaged through the box, carefully removing each wrapped item into a pile on the floor. The assortment of shapes had his curiosity but not enough to scan below the coverings.

Armored hands unwrapped the oblong shape, the grin on her face plates offering no clue as she held it for him to see.

"Is that a fake?" Optimus nearly choke in disbelief.

"Interface rod, large size with attachment straps," Elita confirmed, dangling it in both hands.

"Why would Chromia need that with Ironhide's size? A mech can't have two rods!"

"She has it for Ironhide. The straps attach it to her to spike his valve."

"He allows her to?" His bright blue optics focused on the large shape as his own armored legs clenched together.

"Chromia found it on a human website under the term 'pegging.' Shall we try it?" Elita purred, holding it in front of her hip plates.

"Not right now! I have reports to finish, a security meeting with Prowl and I assume the first time would leave certain soreness?" Battle protocols engaged, instantly computing scenarios for escape and release. There was no way that large device was going to be used on him.

"Can't sit down without whimpering you mean. Hence the large tube of warming gels. I can go slowly and gently like our first times as mech and femme," Elita explained, coating its entire length with gel.

"Ah, I'll pass thank you," his regal baritone steady as scenarios ran faster. Calling any of his command team would be a mistake; he had to retain his dignity as their leader. Other bots would not keep their lip plates sealed and his image even more precious to them. Optimus optics widened as his femme began locking the straps, positing the fake rod like a mech would wear his naturally. 'Call the Decepticons? A quick sneak attack would sound the alarm and provide an excuse to leave even Elita would understand,' he contemplated. The last buckle clicked under her hands and that hope went off the list. 'By the time Megatron arrives it would be too late. Slag it. And I had the perfect insult to enrage him.'

"There, have to figure out how to thrust my hips to push," she murmured, wiggling back and forth. "No, that's not right. It's wobbling so how?"

"Won't work, don't need to waste time trying! Put it back and let me down and I can show you all you want to know on our berth my dearest spark. Really, play time is over sweetspark. Put that thing away and let's make memories shall we?"

"Oh, you'll remember this," Elita smiled, bending low at her knees before straightening up. Down and up in a smooth motion, over and over. "That's it. See how long I can pound you hmm? Until you overload, or my back struts give out." Three steps had her alongside his chassis, his cooling fans notching to their highest setting. Two more steps and she moved behind, out of his view range but on his sensors.

"Open wide," her hands rubbed across his aft plating, soft magnetic pulses tingling in their wake.

"No."

"Why?"

He hesitated, trying to remember the human word as his optics closed. "Elita, I'm a...virgin. No bot has ever thrust into my valve!"

"Are you serious?" she burst out laughing, moving to face him then felt the edge of his energy aura. "Optimus, are you frightened?"

"Primes don't get scared. I am merely experiencing an extreme dislike to the idea," his regal baritone never wavered or hesitated.

Elita immediately backed up to the cabinet, the clicks of the unsnapping buckles opening his optics. "You have never forced me or pushed me beyond what I wanted. I can do no less. Perhaps later when you are ready. "

'Never this side of the matrix,' he processed, his cooling fans easing down.

"It vibrates and the warming gel comes in energon flavors. Ready for next time in hot spice blue," she added, wrapping the fake interface rod back in it's covering. "This however, will do." Elita snapped her wrist, the shape uncurling to a metal whip.

'Hardly an equal payback,' Optimus processed. 'My armor can endure the concussion from Megatron's cannon. I won't even feel that hitting, even if she uses full strength,' he smirked then blinked rapidly as silver power crackled its length.

"Remember Volt? Mech always playing with energy? This is his, modified by Wheeljack to be non lethal. Should be safe," Elita stepped very close, her hand reaching up to cradle the bottom of his jaw plating. "Naughty mech won't take his energon; have to give him energy some other way."

"Elita, this is another bad idea. How about you put that box away and we talk about this?" The crackling snap of the whip hid the whirring of his cooling fans hitting their top speed.

"Bad bad Prime. Get you energized and see if we can spread those legs of yours," she stated, cracking the whip in the air before whipping it out across his wide aft.

"ARRRGGHHHHH!"

**MEDICAL BAY**

**THREE DECKS AWAY**

"Hey medic! I am processing borrowing the Matrix again. You got shells stocked?"

The delicate part skittered across the work surface as for once, Ratchet's steady hands fumbled. "Ironhide! That's not funny."He glared over his shoulder at the red armored warrior stomping into his work area.

"Ain't suppose to be.'Mia and I talked it over. We want more sparklings," the ancient weapons specialist stated calmly. He leaned on the counter end, reaching out to slide the transistor part back towards the other mech. His blue optics watched as Ratchet slapped his hand over the part, dragging it closer before lifting it into the nearest parts bin.

"At your age I'd think you be discussing ways to see them reach maturity."

"I ain't older than you by much." He ignored the medic's snort of disagreement. "I got the shell of a fourth stage mech." He tapped his own armor.

"Boy is he going to be pit spawned when he sees what ya done with it 'Hide," Jazz quipped, entering med bay at that moment. The white armored spy smiled when they did not.

"No, there are no sparklings left without parental units that you may have Jazz. I have not discovered a way for you to carry one as a mech even if I found a femme willing to donate her half of a merge since your last visit," Ratchet confronted their resident saboteur.

"That answers two of my questions. One left," Jazz subspaced out an oversize wrench, twirling it his white armored fingers before tossing it into the parts bin.

"When did you steal that wrench?" Ratchet grumbled.

"Your last question how to save your aft when you steal a sparkling and the femme finds out?" Ironhide asked.

"No, though I have given that some processing. Would not be right depriving the little bugger of momma's spark. Question is where is Optimus and what is he doing? I bet the answer might surprise you," Jazz stated.

**AUTOBOT PERSONAL QUARTERS**

**OPTIMUS AND ELITA'S ROOMS**

Optimus opened his optics, trying to remember why he was laying face down on the floor of his office. The time chronometer in the corner of his optics blurred, the numbers too vague to read. The Matrix of Leadership deep in his chest buzzed angrily distracting him from the increasing pain in his aft. 'Must have landed on it wrong,' he groggily processed.

"Roll onto your side plates junior," a familiar mech voice ordered and he complied instantly.

Alpha Trion leaned into his visual range as the walls faded into mist. "Do not move and I will explain. We borrowed you, took control."

"Why?" Optimus asked, his processors too foggy to react. He blinked as Alpha walked through the desk to crouch before remembering his essence lived in the Matrix with other former carriers, all offlined.

"You were about to merge with Elita and we simply could not allow that to happen. The reason will become clear in time. That is why we separated you from Elita and walked you here. Shame really. The whip was a new experience but her hands. They are fantastic the way she worked us, or rather you. Then your chest plates began sliding open and we had to intervene."

"You perverted old mech! Stay out of our love making! She's my femme!"

"And only yours. Too fiery and exploratory for my tastes but matches your spark perfectly. She is recharging in your quarters, none the wiser and unharmed by our actions. You are here, also safe without further harm because of us." The ancient mech's purple colors faded to gray then white before drifting apart as mist. "The desk, that was you however."

"Me what?" Optimus processed groggily, leaning up to a sitting position in a now empty office. Elbowing aside a metal shape, he twisted to see his desk chair, flatter with wheels snapped off on its side behind him. Looking straight ahead, the metal surface of his desk registered. Twin char marks arrowed straight across, smoking as a burnt metal smell drifted across his sensors.

The right side of the desk creaked, falling over onto the floor, the separation line ragged and burnt. Optimus raised both arms, feeling the heavy weight of his energon blades, fully charged with end tips curved. A single command sent them back into their housing as he shifted his feet pads under him to rise.

"No spark merge, no lost bet," parts creaked as he winced while standing. An armored hand rubbed across aft, finding it intact but painful. "I'm going to blast Wheeljack's aft with my rifle next time I see him." His spark pulsed, energy readings notching higher.

_ACTIVE: MOVEMENT CABLES_

_ACTIVE: SUP SPACE PULLERS_

_ACTIVE: PRIMARY EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS_

_ACTIVE: PRIMARY WEAPONS_

_ACTIVE: WEAPONS CHARGES AND TARGETING_

_ACTIVE: SECONDARY WEAPONS_

_ACTIVE: COMMUNICATIONS_

_ACTIVE: SECONDARY EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS_

_ONLINE: 98% PROCESSORS, 2% RESETTING FROM UNEXPECTED IMPACT_

_ACTIVE: MATRIX_

_ACTIVE: MEMORY CORE_

_ACTIVE: HAND VIBRATOR_

_ACTIVE: CHEST SLIDES_

_ACTIVATED: THIRD LAYER EMERGENCY SYSTEMS _

_ACTIVATED: ONE TIME ENERGY RELEASE_

_ENERGY SYSTEMS: 128 % CHARGED_

"Oh Primus, that is what Elita meant. The whip's energy overcharged my system. I can never explain this. Hide here and wait until the halls are clear of the other mechs or I'll never live this down," Optimus realized. Then the other sliced end of his desk fell to the floor. The main desk piece creaked before going over backwards, dumping the sliced datapads and files onto the floor.

A knock of the outer door sounded the astro second before his comm activated. ::Hoist here sir. We detected an energy spike in your office. Are you functional? Prowl is outside your door and Ratchet is en route. Shall I override the door lock to let them in?::

_To be continued..._


	19. Chapter 19 Who is holding who and why

Author's Notes: Why focus on other characters? Simple, variety. Otherwise, it would be Optimus doing Elita from the back, doing her from the front, over her, Elita riding him and the fun would repeat for a few chapters, as there are only so many variations of the same thing. Moreover, there are other Transformers in the Ark with them. Nevertheless, we will be returning to wild Elita and Prime loving shortly.

Last chapter was dark and things will return to more humor and fun. Credit to fellow writer pyrofrickenmaniac for her quote "Ratch to the hatch." Thanks to AuroraFerreri for catching the femme name mix-up last paragraph. It's been fixed. That's what happens when you have no beta reader.

_**PROWL, SECOND IN COMMAND **_

_**OFFICIAL LOG ENTRY 10.22.10**_

_Approve supply order # 1265 to replace Prime's desk in his working office and dispose of the current desk pieces into recycling. Review his last mental processing assessment for indicators of possible stress factors that are removable or able to be limited. _

**COMMAND DECK**

**OPTIMUS PRIME OFFICE**

"Sir, that is your third desk this orn. Your last one splintering and cracking on the edge as though hit repeatedly," Prowl said. His blue optics missed none of the char marks on the current desk fragments, recognizing trace evidence of energon swords.

Prowl's polished armor shined under the lights, not a trace of his frantic run visible. Hoist's call for help triggered the worse of his sneak attack scenarios. 'Energy spike from cassettes attacking after sneaking into the ark undetected, energy spike from planted bomb left by teleporting seeker, energy spike from self offlining though that one deleted itself back out the instant Prowl's logic processor offered it. Instead the hastily keyed override slid the doors back to reveal his boss intact and unhurt, staring at the door while rubbing his abdominal plating. "Do you require a different design or stronger materials or is there another flaw I am unaware of that makes them unsuitable for your daily use?"

The tall red armored mech standing nearby looked anywhere but at the desk pieces. His normal regal stance, feet pads wide hips out and shoulders back was anything but. Feet pads together, his arm braced against his midriff as the other hand braced on his hip plate. 'I am never going to be able to explain this one,' Optimus felt his cooling fans notch higher. The tall mech never moved while listening. System locks controlled the excess energon, barely. 'If I move, he'll know the speed and force is too fast. A simple gesture could send him into the wall. Thank Primus I wiped off our combined fluids before switching that last desk out. Elita would gladly inform Prowl what we had been doing if he asked her. 'His optics returned to the faceplates of his second in command.

"You never did explain how that happened sir. The first desk I understood. Skyfire tripping over Cliffjumper and falling is understandable. Sheer design kept him from going through the deck onto the floor below with the desk. However, this last situation is...unique. Sir, are there events I should be aware of? Do you need assistance beyond the official channels?"

"No Prowl," Optimus tried to form a smile on his faceplates and failed.

"I recognize I am unsuitable for discussing emotional matters or relationship issues with," he began when a super fast armored hand stopped barely at the end of his nose plating.

"My personal life is not the issue. Return to your duties. If I need assistance I give you my word I will call," Optimus promised before literally running out the door.

_**RATCHET, CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER**_

_**OFFICIAL LOG ENTRY, 10.22.10**_

_Remind Optimus of the standard warning signs of stasis lock and energon deprivations in femmes. Discuss preventative measures for sparkling control._

_**RATCHET, THE MECH THAT SAVES THEIR AFTS**_

_**PERSONAL LOG 10.22.10**_

_Remind me to measure Optimus for a locking interface tip with sharp metal prongs or a coding glitch to offline his optics the second Elita removes a single piece of armor. Then transpose images of Decepticons in their protoform? Hmm, that might lead to odd battle field reactions. Still, something is required after our bet ends. He cannot keep risking Elita with merges and sparklings._

**AUTOBOT PRIVATE QUARTERS **

**OPTIMUS & ELITA'S ROOMS**

Ratchet knelt, careful to scan the rose-colored femme thoroughly before touching or risk moving her. "Slagging Prime! Leave her on the floor! " He swore, hands hovering above Elita's front armor over her spark release catches. Squeezed between her and the wall, he leaned closer nearly unbalancing before shifting his leg up and over her hip armor, straddling the prone femme. "Her energy reading is nearly flat. Does he want her in stasis lock? Cannot admit he lost the bet and call for help? I am going to fray the armor off his protoform for this."

The twitching of her optic shutters went unnoticed as his fingers gently touched her armor clasps. Her feet pads straightened out as the first latch clicked free. The second latch began moving as Elita's optics snapped open, her chassis arching upward.

Hey!" Ratchet yelped, leaning back while unknowingly tightening his legs around her hips as his balance wavered.

"You!" She yelled, arching in surprise pressing tighter against him. Whatever he would have said became lost under his grunt of pain as she slugged him with a closed fist. His armor form went over backwards, slumping against the wall as she pulled her legs up, scooting across the floor to rest against the recharge berth. Elita's armored fingers fumbled at her own latches, snapping them tight.

"No bet is worth this," the medic ground out, feeling an indentation in his jaw armor.

"Bet? Lay one finger on me and I bet Moonracer won't find all your pieces!" Elita threatened.

"Jazz reports Optimus walking the halls like a zombie bot, didn't even acknowledge his greeting. I could not pull his energy signature or spark locator. Figured you and he were fragging each other silly. Instead you're on the floor, practically offlined," he rubbed at his lower jaw plating.

"And that gives you the urge to ride me?" Her volume rose with each word, matching the rapid pulsing of her spark.

"Any femme nearly offline on the floor triggers my medical protocols to save her spark since that is not normal functioning!" Ratchet roared back.

"Fine! But you couldn't do it from alongside me?"

"In this small space? Your super size recharge berth for your heavy aft mate takes up nearly the entire room! And next time," the medic rose to his feet pads, still glaring. "Something is wrong please remain standing where I can have my assistant scan you first! Or better yet, crawl to med bay for the auto scanners to fix you as I wade through a hallway full of your sparklings!" If the recharge room door had been anything but self-closing, there was no doubt in her processors he would have slammed it off the hinges with his anger.

Sputtering, Elita considered pulling her weapon or following him to apologize for assuming the worse. "Great going femme. Thousands of years and he never once treated you as anything but professional and you slug him," she muttered, hearing the outer door slide shut.

In the hallway, Ratchet leaned against the orange painted metal wall, control wavering as his mech instincts surged. His medical self-controls engaged, calming his systems. Standing upright, Ratchet assumed his best in charge and no emotion showing professional expression. Reaching med bay, he dove for the privacy of his office.

**MT ST HILLARY**

**ARK ENTRANCE**

Stumbling outside, the cool evening air flowing across Optimus armor failed to dampen the flashing energy warnings. Rounding the corner away from any possible security cameras, he nearly doubled over before arching up and back, optics seeing only the stars above. His hands were nearly to his chest plates when the power began shining through the ever-widening gap in the center seam.

The exploding power lit the darkening sky, shooting outward like jagged lightning. The light began fading as Optimus felt himself falling forward, unable to react in time with his chest plates full open. The impact on the ground, with the matrix of leadership in front of his spark could damage either or both.

Thick-cabled arms wrapped around his frame, holding him upright. A spark as strong as his own flared behind him. The deep vocal in Optimus audios comforting as a large armored hand pressed against his chest plates, closing them gently. "I assume you had a reason for this?"

"Magnus," Optimus vented, leaning back against the other's armor plating.

"You saved me on Denarius three, seven and nine. Making sure you are there the next time I need saving," he vented, bracing to lower Optimus to a sitting position on the ground. Recovering enough to sit, he watched as Magnus crouched in front on him, a feat considering his larger size.

"Did you follow me? Is that why you are outside?"

"Don't flatter yourself spark brother. Prowl is about to take his sparkling Mira for a drive around the lake. Three of us guard them at all times. Grapple is by the lake waiting for them, Bumblebee at the midpoint, and I cover here making sure they have a safe base to retreat to. We ahh, owe him for lost reports of events we would rather forget."

Optimus regarded Ultra Magnus with a startled look before grinning. "Only Prowl would even a debt and not blackmail outright. Speaking of assisting, I need to use your office tonight."

"Elita kick you out of your own quarters? That why you were trying to spark merge with the stars?" Hydraulics hissing, he rose to his towering height before offering an assisting hand. A single pull had the other mech on his feet pads.

"Funny," Optimus said, brushing at the dust on his backside. "I have reports to finish and my office is the first place they look for me. Our quarters are the last place I want to review rows and rows of numbers on energon use, replacement tires and how many requests for our technology have come from the humans."

"Afraid you will recharge on top of the reports? Use my office as I will be in my quarters with my femme," Ultra Magnus teased.

"And tomorrow night?"

"With her again. Femme is insatiable and I am happy to keep her happy," he chuckled.

"I meant using your office?" An optic arch rose.

"We don't use it for that! Oh, you meant would my office be empty to work in? Yes sir." The large white, red and blue commander watched Optimus stalk back into the Ark, moving with purpose though he rubbed at his mid section again. "Bot needs to relax. Should stop by med bay and see Ratchet. He'd fix him right up."

_**RED ALERT, CHIEF OF SECURITY**_

_**OFFICIAL SECURITY LOG ENTRY10.22.10**_

_Chief Medical Officer Ratchet is not to be disturbed for the next orn. He is working actively on a personal project. In the event of an emergency, I am to call First Aid, Hoist, Wheeljack then Swoop unless the situation warrants Ratchet's skill. _

**MED BAY**

"You busy?" Moonracer's vocal surprised Ratchet. Leaning out his office doorway, his optics scanned her frame automatically, noting the fresh wash and layering of armor wax.

"Never too busy for you," he smiled, feeling his spark beating faster. The early warmth hit his systems full force. A single toss sent his crotch plate sailing onto the nearby counter top before he sat back down in his chair, facing the desk.

"I need a place to hide out. Chromia is ranting about the latest target range scores. Worse than before she arrived. Threatened to have them cross fire against Ironhide and last one standing wins. Apparently too many mechs are not updating their targeting systems or weapons. You should hear their excuses, she has a right to scream," she chuckled. Behind her, the door closed and locked at Ratchet's digital command.

"I want to hear you screaming," he said, his optics narrowing to their smallest rotation as he swung the chair around.

"Me? No metal off my back plates if they...whoa!" She vented, as strong medic hands grabbed her forwards up against him. That same strong grip lifted her to sit on his lap, Moonracer's armored legs dangling over his as Ratchet captured her lip plates with his.

"Here? Now?" She held still, feeling his hand sliding between her legs to remove her cover.

"Ratch to the hatch," he whispered in her audios. "I want you," he nibbled down her neck cabling. "I need you," he pushed his hips once, letting her feel his hardened interface rod. "I will have you."

The desk remote monitor activated, Grimlock's image peering out of it. The channel remained on mute, the small soundless icon flashing to warn of a live feed ignored.

"Grimlock ready for lesson," he intoned. The Dinobot's red optics widened as he got a clear, full view of the room and the two occupants. "Oh, live demonstration. Me learn good."

_To be continued..._


	20. Chapter 20 I didn't know I was carrying!

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. More fun around the Ark and the revealing of the newest sparkling, allowing Optimus to continue granting Elita's wish. I apologize for any typos or mistakes ahead of time. I am on vacation and had to buy online time and it was running out as I tried to post this before the deadline.

_**RED ALERT, CHIEF OF SECURITY**_

_**OFFICIAL LOG ENTRY **_

_Report on Ironhide and Chromia's unauthorized visit to Wheeljack's lab filed and forwarded for appropriate action. Secured the lab, pending Wheeljack's release from med bay. Dinobots secured in their quarters, only Solaray allowed inside with them._

_**RED ALERT, CHIEF OF SECURITY**_

_**PERSONAL LOG**_

_Why am I always the mech who sees those two? If First Aid discovered Ironhide and Chromia in Wheeljack's lab, why not order them out? No, he tells me, dumping the situation on my proverbial lap plates to deal with. Only without warning me what they were doing there. Got a real optic full when the doors opened. What galaxy force did I tick off that I share my berth with no one, try to do my job the best I can and my duties include dealing with couples deciding to interface in places other than their quarters? Thank Primus they are the only couple here that do that. Imagine Prime or Ratchet and their femmes behaving that way, be enough to crash my logic centers. _

Ironhide stroked down his mate's deep blue side plating, marveling at the strength of their merge. 'Circuits fried and spark wires tingling, the way I like it,' he processed. Beside him on the berth, Chromia recharged oblivious to his caresses. Her living presence remained throughout his spark, comforting and wanted. A wave of his hand over the wall plate turned the lights off in their quarters, the dark lit only by his optics.

He moved closer against her backside, wrapping his arm around her mid plating. A smirk crossed his lip plates as he remembered the startled look on Red Alert's face plates when the doors opened. 'A few astro seconds sooner and he would have seen me pounding Chromia into that lab counter instead of us both slumped against it. Not that he hasn't caught us doing that too. Maybe Mia's right. Next time he interferes, ask him to join for a threesome and watch him crash out logic locked. Better yet, borrow his office for our activities while he's out patrolling. Now there's a line of code worth following,' Ironhide processed before slipping into recharge.

_**PROWL, SECOND IN COMMAND **_

_**OFFICIAL LOG ENTRY **_

_Prime has completed more reports and administrative matters lately than in a single vorn. He has been attentive to the Ark's workings and our staffing schedule._

_**PROWL, SECOND IN COMMAND**_

_**PERSONAL LOG**_

_I have no explanation for what Prime is up to. For once, he out lasted me. I find myself with breems unfilled in my schedule, normally reserved to cover his work while he is busy making sparklings with Elita or caring for those already in shells. My Mira is all I need, a treasure from Primus' spark. My search for a worthy femme to help raise her is ongoing. Of the two thousand attributes I require, three of our resident, unpaired femmes lack a sufficient number of those attributes, eliminating them from serious consideration. While capable warriors and potential mates, they are not suitable to help raise my Mira. I am considering borrowing the Matrix long enough to ask the Prime Beta her advice. She chose me to be a parental mech, perhaps she can help me choose the femme._

By day, Optimus was everywhere. Checking security systems, talking to his mechs in between playing with all the sparklings, even those not his own. The perfect example of a caring Prime with a full schedule. In reality, it left him tired and ready to deal with the administrative work he and Elita had neglected from their official duties. The narrowing of Ratchet's optics and the frown on his face plates as he scanned Prime for a sudden 'quick checkup' two mornings in a row provided a motive to continue the grueling schedule.

"I will not lose this bet and Elita is still mad about the Matrix interfering. Be an orn before she lets it and me back onto our berth. No other mech can be trusted to guard it either. Who knows the trouble the Matrix would cause them," Optimus processed, keying the code to Ultra Magnus office. Datapads scattered across the desk, their motion carrying from being dumped onto its surface rather than placed. Optimus' tall form reclined in the chair, for once having room to move as the chair fit the larger mech to whom the office belonged. The shuffling of datapads, vague mutterings about useless trivial information and why can't they solve this problem were the only sounds as the night progressed.

Near midnight, the office door slid opened, the black and white mech stepping nimbly through. Prowl's wing doors flared higher at the sight of Optimus deep in recharge across the desk, his helm turned to the side, both arms stretched out on its surface. "He resembles an overgrown sparkling fallen asleep mid play," Prowl smiled.

The soft touch brushing across Optimus hand brought him out of recharge. Smiling, he leaned into the touch before opening his optics expecting to see Elita. "Yes beautiful?" he asked huskily then recoiled at the mech's face bare inches from his own. Prowl retracted his hand, the datapad that had been underneath Optimus hand now in his.

"I needed the patrol reports for the new construction on Autobot city from Magnus and found you here. Is there a reason you are not in your quarters? Or your regular office? I find no repair order on file for either location," Prowl looked at him.

"Elita is tired of my grumbling over numbers and my desk replacement is on hold until Wheeljack returns to active duty tomorrow," Optimus covered quickly, straightening with a creaking of joint gears and powerful hydraulics.

"Understood sir," Prowl said, tempted to offer a willing audio if his boss needed it then decided not to. His earlier offer of assistance remained. Two quick motions and the datapads stacked into a pile, except for the one balancing on the far most desk edge. No longer braced against the other pad, it tilted off the edge.

Optimus blinked, the image of Elita standing before him, with the same wing doors flashing across his optics as Prowl bent over to retrieve the datapad. 'Her alt mode is about the same size as his patrol car,' he realized. 'Same slender waist plates and long legs too in their bi pedal mode.' The warmth began spreading across his interface plating before he realized it. 'Maybe time I suggest a modification to Elita. All new edges to caress and neural junctions to tap on those door joints.'

Prowl straightened, feeling his commander's gaze. Respectfully the second in command kept from looking at the data on the screen as he placed the datapad back on the desk. The intense emotional look of part attraction and part deep processing from his Prime caught him off guard. "Is there anything else before I go?"

"No Prowl," and suddenly Optimus reverted to his normal self. "I'm going to my quarters. See you in the morning."

The officer watched him leave. "What was that all about? Mech really needs more time with Elita."

**NEXT MORNING**

**MED BAY**

"RATCHET!" Elita's half scream half cry as she pushed between the med bay doors triggered three things. Her spark shielding began lowering as her systems recognized the safety of med bay, the answer to her unexpected spark pains. First Aid, Ratchet's assistant, flung himself out of the private office towards Elita and Optimus felt her panic, heading for med bay in reaction. He tried comming her but received no answer, Elita's full attention remaining on the pain and the medical warning flashing across her optics.

"I have a... sparkling essence ...about to detach," Elita gasped out, her arms uncrossing from her chest long enough to let him see the widening gap in her upper armor.

"It's not on today's schedule," First Aid countered, digitally checking and double checking the posted file. There was no slagging way he missed an entry like that!

"I know!" The femme snapped, reclining on the nearest medical berth. Already her inner chest panels quivered, wanting to slide apart even as she fought to keep them closed. The startled feelings of her sparkmate poured through their link as she reached for him, needing him.

"Ratchet is dealing with Solaray and Grimlock in the Dinobot quarters. Should return any astro second, I called him," the assistant reassured, beginning to open cabinets at a frantic speed.

"Don't panic," Elita processed as First Aid assembled the emergency energon drip cart before rolling it next to her. He circled the berth, laying out the transfer scoop and assorted emergency catches. 'Nice and easy venting, you've been through this before femme. You know what to do more than him.' She watched as he rifled through two cabinets before turning to focus on the transfer scoop. His red and white frame sagged as though in relief. Her venting got louder.

In his lab, Wheeljack finished testing the closing latches on the completed sparkling shell, humming to himself. "Ready to go. Ahead of schedule too. Maybe I should add," he muttered, reaching for a tracker mechanism.

:: WHEELJACK! Where the frag are you!:: Elita's mental tone screamed at him over the comm frequency.

:: In my lab why?:: He answered back, climbing back onto the workbench stool after falling onto the floor, startled.

::I need…a sparkling shell…hurry:: Elita's signal pulsed in and out.

::Now as in right now?:: Wheeljack

::As in …the essence…is…separating from…my spark...in med bay... NOW!:: Elita

His optical cores dilated full vision before his hands grabbed the tiny shell close to his chest plates and his feet pads hauled for the door. Running down the hallway, bots moved out of his way automatically and began evacuating the area. Anytime the civilian scientist ran from his lab meant trouble.

In med bay, Elita gripped the medical berth edge, protocols warring within her systems.

"The sparkling essence is separating. I can hold it in the scoop to transfer to a holding chamber for half a joor. Ratchet is leaving the elevator now," First Aid kept up his running commentary, trying to ignore the slight shaking of his armored hands as they held the scoop.

The doors opened as Optimus nearly collided with Wheeljack. His longer stride meant he reached Elita first, optics going full wide as he realized what was happening. "How?"

"If you have to ask, no wonder you keep making them," Wheeljack quipped, holding the sparkling shell out. He meant to transfer it but Optimus was intent on his sparkmate and her near panic. Blindly, he reached out, his bigger hands wrapping around it and Wheeljack's hands on it, dragging them both forward up to Elita's spark.

First Aid scooped under the essence before turning the scoop sideways to release the essence into the waiting shell chamber. Four sets of optics watch anxiously as the plates closed, sealing the flickering ball of light in as it settled.

"Prime? Can you let go now?" Wheeljack asked, uncomfortable at seeing her spark and being pinned between the two of them.

"Hmm, oh sorry," the ancient mech apologized, shifting to release his hands. Wheeljack stepped back and to the side, watching with everyone else. The tiny blue optics of the sparkling opened, shifting upward as Optimus bent over the tiny face. He clicked at it in the ancient language of the Primes as it watched intently.

"What are you going to call him?" First Aid asked.

"A mech?"

"You should know by the color of the spark," Ratchet's vocal admonished from the doors. "Made and seen enough of them."

Fifteen minutes later, he faced the new parents, having dismissed the others. "I need to know and I need to know now," Ratchet tapped his fingers on the console edge, considering probabilities. "The spark essence is fully developed and normal with a residual trace of energy mix I am unfamiliar with. It is not the Matrix and he is fully developed if early based on the creation codes retained by Elita's spark sensors. Care to explain?"

Both parental units vented lightly before smiling at each other. "I did have high grade. I didn't know I was carrying!" Elita protested when Ratchet opened his lip plates to yell at her. "I was tired, cable tight and needed it." Her hands cradled the small recharging sparkling against her chest plates, feeling awed and joyous at his arrival, however unexpected.

"You need a locking door on your recharge area at least two decks away from your spark mate," he grumbled. "Next time lay steel leg traps outside your door. Borrow them from Chromia. Is there anything else I need to know?" he looked at Optimus, recognizing the way he stood as the I've been caught and don't want to say stance that all mechs seem to do naturally.

Optimus shifted from footpad to footpad as his optics stared off to the side. "I uh, that is…I borrowed some from Ironhide…"

"Some what? High grade too? This is a war ship, not a pleasure cruiser even if crashed into the side of a mountain," the medic grumbled.

::Don't tell Elita but I used tingle fluid when we interfaced:: Optimus sent on the private medical frequency to Ratchet alone.

::You did what!:: Ratchet snapped back, his mental tone a mix of disbelief and anger.

Too embarrassed to continue, Optimus sent a compressed data packet of the entire sequence to the medic. His desire to trigger a faster overload in Elita, the hidden tank to hold it and the unexpected side effect.

Elita's optics narrowed, recognizing an internal conversation between the two mechs and frowned. 'What does Optimus not want me to hear? Whatever it is, I bet wrenches are coming.' She watched in disbelief as Ratchet smiled then smirked then began laughing. His whole chassis vibrated as he roared with laughter, bracing against the counter.

That evening, Ratchet shared a drink of high grade with Wheeljack to express his thanks. First for having a sparkling shell ready when they didn't know it would be needed and for delivering it in time to med bay.

"I realized something," Wheeljack admitted, rubbing a hand down the length of his helm sidebar. "A femme makes the same noises, groans and mews when the sparkling comes out as during the overload and merge that creates it."

Ratchet processed for a moment before giving a surprised, "Huh. Never processed it that way. They do sound the same both times."

_to be continued..._


	21. Chapter 21 Velo, Jazz and Flareup secret

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Another chapter and more fun. Blame fellow writer pyrofrickenmaniac for the Jazz emphasis. A question of hers on Jazz sent the plot bunnies racing towards me. And Phoenix13 gets more Ultra Magnus loving. Please review and let me know what you like. And yes, I will be adding to my other fics and Elita and Optimus will be back to fragging in coming chapters. WARNING: Sticky interfacing after Flareup log entry.

_**AUTOBOT PRIVATE QUARTERS**_

_**OPTIMUS & ELITA'S ROOMS**_

"Here is your new home," Optimus announced to his youngest, carrying the tiny mech into their sleeping quarters. The same hands that held a infamously large ion blaster now wrapped around his shell, cradling and protecting. Blue optics looked up at red armor surrounding simulated glass panels, unable to see the faceplate of the one carrying him. The sparkling's tiny fist remained clasping the metal window edge as though keeping a physical connection to the powerful spark underneath the armor of his parental mech.

"Any more sparkling bunks and we will be using the ceiling for extra storage. Yes, I can see it now. Sliding racks where the oldest runs up a set of installed wall bars and the rest stack below them," Elita pretended to examine the wall and ceiling between her rose colored hands.

"Or we could get bigger quarters, increase the berth size and add a room adjoining for the sparklings," he suggested, laying the sparkling in the newest installed wall bunk. His hands barely had room to maneuver between the bunk right above it and the side bunk. "For now we can only mate when they are with the caregivers or your screaming wakes them up."

"My screaming?" Her optics narrowed.

"I distinctly remember hearing my name in a high pitched cry, not on the battlefield either," Optimus rubbed across his chin plates with his armored hand before sitting on their large bolted to the floor berth.

"I do remember that. You were standing on Sunstreaker's foot pad, scratching the paint," she teased.

"Funny femme. You know what I mean. A Prime serves his people in all ways and helping you test the upper range of your vocals while filling your lower valve opening is my personal joy and honor. There is very little I am not capable of multitasking," he grinned at her, crossing one armored leg over the other to rest his arm on.

"Like sitting there smirking and unable to create his name?" Elita said.

"You haven't been able to choose one and refused every suggestion I made," he noted, shifting backwards to rest more fully on the berth. It creaked and groaned in the supports but held.

"They didn't fit. He seems serious compared to the others. Watches every movement we make as though waiting," Elita smiled to take any possible negativity out of her words. Her armored fingers rubbed over his helm vents, before tapping the end of his nose plating. Giggling, his little feet pads and stubby hands waved in the air.

"Let one of the others choose?"

"A naming contest?" Elita looked over at her mate, surprised at the suggestion.

"Might work. Dependent on suitable names being offered," Optimus agreed. Bright blue optics dimmed as he linked to the command system. A brief message flashed to every Autobot in and around the Ark before system relays carried the message onward to those on patrols or stationed among the humans.

"Any answers yet?"

"Depends on the question," he said, ticking of his fingers. "Do I want you? Yes. Are you mine? Always. Am I yours? Any time you want. Do I want to pound you senseless, feeling you thrash under me as I skillfully throw you into overload, oh yes."

"Does my Prime have a big ego to match his parts? To the moon and back yes!" Elita laughed, moving the few steps to cuddle inside his arms. Reaching to kiss him, the femme hesitated as his optics dimmed.

Optimus optics brightened before focusing back on her. "The first name suggestions arrived back. Almost a hundred from just four mechs. Wonder who else will chime in?" he chuckled. Over the next hour the constant interruption kept them from reaching the right mood and aggravated Elita. Every attempt to excite her mate failed to last until finally she conceded defeat, curling up in his arms to recharge. He left her side an hour later, greeting the caregivers in the outer room before settling each sparkling into their bunk as she rested. Morning found him with two problems. A overflowing name list and a wall full of tiny blue optics staring at him. Rubbing on her shoulder plating woke Elita.

"Right touch, wrong place," she murmured, optics opening slowly. Wordlessly he pointed at them watching as her systems came online.

"Tonight I promise personal time," his lip plates caressed hers before a chorus of clicking sounds filled the room.

_**WHEELJACK**_

_**PERSONAL LOG**_

_At least Ratchet can't blame the repairs on me this time. I didn't mix anything wrong, accidentally knock anything over or get a power cell amp wrong. Though if he was going to teach Grimlock himself he should have suggested the video technique to me or just done it. Would have saved me parts and down time recovering in med bay. I admit, Grimlock showing me the video was an optic opener. Never knew Ratchet had that much flexibility in his frame or how fast his medical system allows him to reset between interfacing. How he ever convinced Moonracer to assist I will never know. She always seemed more reserved than the other femmes. Except Chromia. _

_And speaking of which. __My lab is secure and Ironhide promised to send a cleaning bot in before I return to it. For once, I have more non lethal orders backing up than weapon repairs or upgrades. I kind of like it. And anything to take a break from making sparkling shells._

**WHEELJACK'S LAB**

**SCIENCE RESEARCH LEVEL **

**(FARTHEST AREA FROM ORIGINAL ARK ENGINES AND AUTOBOT PERSONAL QUARTERS)**

Jazz pulled the two wires further out, touching their split ends together. The faintest glow across his thermal scanner showed the momentary charge before the doors slid apart. The printed warnings in multiple languages glowed brightly as a last reminder above and on either side of the threshold. All were ignored as their colors flowed across his white armor as Jazz snuck into the lab.

"Red Alert chasing out Chromia and Ironhide did me a favor. Wheeljack's alarms would give me away, since he designed my overrides. But Red's security locks are always the same. Learn how to bypass one and instant access every time. Time for me to scoop out the latest inventions and gizmos. Hmm, added a few new blast marks to the ceiling and walls since the last time I snooped."

His blue visor sparkled as he tilted it back and forth, scanning the work surfaces. Nine squares formed by tape ran across its surface. Each square's Cybertronian glyph a familiar name sequence. "Toys instead of bombs, I like it."

The first square labeled with Ironhide's name contained Cybertronian building blocks. "No mini weapons? Amazing but safe. Wouldn't want them touching one and blowing off a footpad after playing with a toy version, not knowing the real one is charged. Smart processing there 'Hide."

The half built and completed toys scattered across the second square recognizable without the name identifier. "Replicas of wrenches and mini datapads," Jazz touched a completed toy, feeling it depress under his finger. "Squeezable even. And a mini medical scanner that squeaks. Wonder how he is going to explain the swearing to his sparking femmes once they are old enough? Can't claim it's a medic thing. First Aid doesn't swear, always well mannered."

By the time he left, Jazz knew every invention and toy in progress, planned or speculated. It was the video tape copy locked under his heaviest security codes that he couldn't wait to return to his quarters with. And the all important question. Why did Wheeljack have a video like that in the first place?

_**OPTIMUS PRIME**_

_**PERSONAL LOG**_

_While I trust Magnus with my very existence, I seriously need to have a talk with him. I know the femmes discuss us as we do on occasion discuss them. However, Firestorm comparing our mech parts is not fair. Size alone is not as important as the use and skill that goes along with it. Megatron is same size as me and I don't see any femmes running to his quarters. Even faithfully spark mated to Elita, other femmes chase me and not because of my armor paint colors._

_I need Magnus to focus on his command and the building of the Autobot city here on earth. His relationship with Firestorm has my approval and I am glad they have sparklings of their own. Even if the little pit spawns use Roller to get around in. Wheeljack reassured me he is building a similar symbiont bot for Magnus so I may have mine back. I will ignore Wheeljack's suggestion to use Roller to tow five kiddie cars to carry all my sparklings at the same time. He is my symbiont not the lead car in a roller coaster set. The other mechs and femmes of the Ark are more than happy to assist in their carrying and feeding, sharing among all the parental units. And I am never letting anyone suggest a name for one of mine again. Bad enough I am stuck with Optimus but even Megatronus or Incisor would be viable at this point compared to the variety of names suggested. _

The gathered Autobots nearly filled the recreation room, each hoping their name the winner while betting traded back and forth over personal comm channels who would be the mech or femme to win. The Dinobots remained in their lower levels, finishing out their brig time. The majority of the sparklings and femmes were on the upper command deck, getting a private tour from Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack. Only Elita and Chromia stood alongside their mates as everyone else waited.

Morning energon sipped or guzzled as each bot chose, the atmosphere relaxed and light. The shuffling of massive armored feet drew their attention as Optimus stepped forward to announce the winner. They went silent as he raised a hand to command for their silence.

"To be fair, I truly chose the name at random from the rather extensive list. I threw four data key dice to choose a entry number, two thousand four hundred and eighty seven," Optimus stated calmly. He remained aware of the betting and promised himself time to have a personal talk with the winning mech later. Though whether to thank him or blame him Optimus wasn't sure.

"And his name is?" Ironhide asked, one arm curled around Chromia's waist plates while his other hand pushed the little cart holding his sparklings back and forth.

"Velo," Optimus stated then vented lightly at their blank looks. "The winner of the name contest is Wheeljack with the name suggestion Hypervelocity. I refuse to call my sparkling mech Hyper, Loci, or City. Moreover, he's too young to try and deal with a six syllable name or spell a name that long in several languages." Velo sat on the table top beside Optimus, in easy reach of either parent as he sucked on an energon bottle unaware of being the center of attention.

"A star that is ejected at very high velocity from the center of a galaxy due to interaction with a massive central black hole," Prowl noted, his wing doors holding steady. Losing the bet remained irrelevant to the fact the newest mech had a name for him to log into the official records.

"That describes the three of you," Ratchet said.

"Name fits, massive and black hole included," Ironhide grunted, grinning when Optimus glared at him.

::Be nice, at least they cared enough to offer names. And they acknowledge you are massive:: Elita sent privately to her sparkmate. Her armored hand quickly disposed of Velo's empty energon bottle, swapping it out for a soft play toy.

::Me and my mech parts:: Optimus sent back.

::Ultra Magnus is larger:: Elita sent before processing what she said or whom she sent it to in such a matter of fact tone. Her concentration remained on removing the toy from between Velo's lip plates and putting it back in his hands.

The mechs froze, feeling the air temperature drop as Optimus' optics narrowed. His entire chassis tightened as he turned towards his spark mate, the energy emanating off him equal to his spark brother Megatron. Those closest to him began backing up, unsure of what was happening but recognizing to stay clear until the dust settled, or if even that much remained. The fastest few ducked out the doors, heading for duties or their own quarters. Others quickly followed dispersing to various parts of the ship.

::How do you know that?:: Optimus challenged, both of his hands curling into fists as his engine revved with an angry sound to it.

::Firestorm told me:: Elita answered, shrugging physically.

::And you find that?:: Optimus asked.

::Never want to find it lover. Too much high grade and you burn out, too much activity and no recharge burns out your processor, too large an interface rod splits your plating. You fill me more than enough inside and out. My spark calls to yours alone::Elita sent, turning to face her mech. Beside her, the toy dropped forgotten to the table top as bright shiny red armor moved within reach of Velo's tiny arms.

::And my spark answers yours alone:: Optimus smiled, gathering her against him.

::This is nice but the others are watching. How about we take this to our quarters?:: Elita asked, seeing how many Autobots were still present. Bumblebee watched them with wide optics as Ratchet glared over him, being much taller; Jazz smirking at Ratchet from the side while pushing his hands outward repeatedly in the air. The medic ignored him, not recognizing the motion. Ironhide pointed alongside them, adding his gestures for a different reason. Neither Optimus or Elita noticed.

::How about I order them out using my authority as Prime and take you right here and now?:: Optimus teased, moving his arms outward to release her.

::Let them stay, might learn something. Better yet go downstairs and you can teach the Dinobots what happens after interfacing:: Ratchet broke into their frequency.

::I wasn't talking to you:: Optimus sent back, missing the fact Velo no longer sat on the table.

::Fine. Just tell me how many sparklings you expect this time and where I send the name choices and I'll leave quietly:: Ratchet

::Stick them up your...::Optimus

::Language!:: Elita snapped, glaring at both mechs.

Optimus held still, feeling little hands and feet pads moving across his upper back armor. He turned his helm fractionally to the right side, his optics narrowing as a tiny silver servo reached up to grasp the edge of his jaw plating.

"Velo," he asked softly. "Should we be up that high?"

Jazz grinned, his optics sparkling behind his battle visor. "Like that ever stopped you boss bot. I remember that little adventure on Iaacon with the lookout tower, you and Magnus and a bottle of high grade."

"It was an unofficial emergency drill to test coordinated responses to unexpected situations," Optimus regal baritone convinced none of them.

"What adventure?" Bumblebee immediately perked up. He had not heard this story.

"Nothing much," the Autobot resident spy pretended to examine his knuckle sheaths. "Optimus and Magnus bet each other who could reach the top the fastest would win said container of high grade."

"Who won?"

"Neither of us," Optimus admitted sheepishly. "We got stuck near the top. The upper deck had an extra wide base we couldn't reach over. When we attempted to climb back down, a force field engaged to protect the data core below us. Thought we were intruders."

"You were, only not the way the designers tried to protect against. I need to refill the energon bottles, be right back. Keep Velo entertained until then," Elita said before moving towards the energon dispensers on the far wall.

"You couldn't climb up, and the force field kept you from going down or flying off. Then how?" Bumblebee reasoned.

"They had to be rescued," Ironhide said.

"And the first seeker to retrieve them received the surprise gift of high grade," Jazz crowed. His hidden optics narrowed. The loud clicks of delight coming from Velo increased as half of his sire's battle mask retracted. Using both hands, the little sparkling pressed the side panel again, sliding it close. Then open then closed again.

CLICK CLICK SNIZZ

"Yes, you were very clever to figure that out," Optimus congratulated then turned his optics towards the others. "A little assistance here?" He remained still lest he accidentally knock Velo off.

Jazz moved first, reaching up as tall as he could to reach the tiny shape. Two steps back and Optimus suddenly vented, turning his helm nearly all the way around. "Another one in my upper gears!" he half arched.

"Hold yer engines. It's one of my femmes," Ironhide grunted, reaching to retrieve the gray sparkling shape trying to wedge in between the gap of the ancient leaders' back and hip plates.

Sitting Velo down on the floor, Jazz pretended to wave his hands together. An interconnected geometric shape appeared out of the air to drop in front of the sparkling. Clicking excitedly, the toy disappeared into Velo's grasp.

"What is that?" Bumblebee asked. The yellow scout thought it looked familiar but not enough to recognize.

"Model of a nine level security access circuitry," Jazz said. "Went out of use before your time 'Bee. Places like the Ark or the Nemesis still use them but that's all. Simple way is to blast them. Buggers are hard to untangle to bypass."

"Not too hard," the yellow scout noted, pointing down at the pieces now scattered at Velo's feet pads. Another call for assistance from Optimus had Bumblebee moving to help, thereby missing the flashes of emotion across Jazz's face plates. The large black and white mech knelt down to verify what he thought he saw. Each circuit piece untangled and laid apart from the rest without damage or breakage.

"My spy bot," Jazz vented reverently, feeling his circuits charge with a feeling of hope he had long ago given up feeling. "Of all the sparks I have seen come online, all the cleverness and innocence of your age, you have curiosity and skill."

Both white armored hands wrapped around Velo's tiny form as Jazz cradled the sparkling above his own spark plates. "You are going to be the best spy mech ever. Hound and Bumblebee are good scouts but you will be the best. I promise. And as a guardian of the Allspark, my promise means something."

Little blue optics met large soft blue optics that crinkled on the optic edges.

CLICK CLICK WHIRR FUZZ SNACK WHIRR CLICK CLACK CLUNK

"I don't know what you said but I'll take that as a yes. Time for your energon then we get Wheeljack to make you toys even you can't figure out," he smiled. Handing him to Elita, he half bowed in the old ways of their kind, dimly registering her startled look at his courtesy.

Walking back towards his room, Jazz paused in the hallway. "Thank Primus I have a successor. No more worrying about secrets disappearing like the second key location to Victor Sigma or the code book of the ancients of the original thirteen warriors." The sudden chirping of his personal alarm shifted his delight to wariness.

_**FLAREUP **_

_**PERSONAL LOG**_

_I find myself with a serious problem. All these sparklings have activated dormant programs within my systems. Humans blame hormones or emotional unrest, I blame the medics that refuse to lock out certain parts of our coding even at our request. My desire to fill my valve and my arms with another is becoming unbearable. If I don't interface soon my energy signature will start flaring like a star going nova. Our resident cranky medic will lecture me and suggest devices I want no part of. _

_My solution? Find a mech I trust with my shell and to keep it quiet. Stay with him for a night or two and work it out of my system for the next 10,000 years or so. Not like the mechs are the be all end all of my existence. I joined as a warrior to fight for what I loved and find myself with nothing left but memories of my home and my city. No interface rod alone could fill the void that now occupies my spark. We all have lost much but to find any one mech that understands what it is to be left alone, the last of your clan is beyond even Primus abilities. To have him be like the old mechs of legend, powerful spark and strong of spirit is a fantasy. I gave up looking for that type after my first few mechs. Swore off pleasure as nothing but a distraction. It doesn't last, I can live without it and being alone is better than spending my days and nights dealing with a pain in the aft who once loved me and is too stupid to leave. Been through that already. _

_I just need my systems to ease down. The mech I will ask is a known berth hopper and can be trusted. It's getting his attention to ask that might be a problem._

**AUTOBOT PERSONAL QUARTERS**

**JAZZ'S ROOM  
**

"About time. I was beginning to wonder if you remembered where your quarters were," Flareup's feminine purr greeted Jazz as he peeked in through the door to his private quarters. The femme reclined on his recharge berth, stretching out on her side plates, her feet tucked up behind her aft. Her arm and head rested on his pillow.

The blaster in his hand shifted, disappearing back into subspace out of sight. Jazz knew the astro second someone overrode his door locks, letting themselves in. While she registered as a fellow Autobot, he took no chances until confirming her identity. Relaxing, he moved out of the main room to stand inside the doorway. "Been busy."

"With?" Flareup shifted, letting one leg halfway slide down the other to keep her form lines sleek and smooth.

"Doing my job assisting Prime in keeping the peace. Little sparklings put finger paint all over Sunstreaker's footpads before he noticed, put happy face plates stickers on Ratchet's aft. He was sitting down and the chair had an open backside reachable when the little buggers stood up. Then two of the sparklings climbed up Optimus frame, trying to get under his armor," Jazz explained, digitally locking both doors while leaving a do not disturb type message on his comm response.

"How did they take it?" Flareup asked between giggles.

"Sparklings loved it, the mechs not so much. Though none of us told Ratchet about his stickers. Figure he'll wait until next time Optimus is stuck with the kids and unable to move. Ratchet will tape an appointment note to his armor for getting his interface parts removed. With the same paint scrapper he uses to remove the stickers. Me, I think Prime needs antenna ornaments when he's standing still like that," Jazz chuckled.

"And what do you need?"

"Besides cold wash racks when seeing your beautiful chassis?" he teased, moving closer.

"Wash racks after," she stated calmly. "I need company and I don't go sliding my cover open for every mech. I need relief from an overcharged system and it's been a long time since I trusted any bot this close. But you have the reputation, next to the twins, of banging plates with anyone willing, even if only for a time or two. That brings me to my next point. Every bot says you are a real berth partner yet not one bot I talked to has been with you or can name anyone you have interfaced with. Why keep that reputation and no partners?"

Jazz grinned at her, his visor rippling with blue energy side to side. "Anonymity is a spy's first protection. If I'm not around, the excuse of being busy on my berth covers all questions. Doesn't do for me to tell them I'm out gathering information they can't know about. Being anonymous means you are plain, ordinary and fit right in no one considers ya a threat. White paint job with color striping but nothing flashy. My visor hides my optics as needed. Take my build," he gestured at himself, from feet pads to the top of his helm.

"Standard mech chassis, shorter than most mechs and wild personality. Keep others guessing what you will do next. Hardly a design to be more than what it seems," Flareup commented.

"Is it? Do you know if I were one mark shorter, I would be a scout? I got the skills for it but being a bit taller than Hound, beat it all, I'm over the officialized limit."

"I didn't know that," Flareup admitted. "I thought chassis size remained limited by spark strength? Like say Cliffjumper would shatter his spark trying to power a mech frame guardian size. And limits enhancements to your equipment," she grinned, her optics narrowing in on the space where his hip plates and legs joined. "Limit how much can be added to be adequately powered. Your smaller physical size is a representation of?"

"Not for me sweetness. I got me a powerful spark, ask the medics," Jazz crowed, gesturing a huge circular shape.

"The medics won't tell and do you know how many mechs brag that?" she rolled her optics around in a circle. Leaning up on one arm, she poked at his chest armor.

"They look like this?" Jazz held out both arms to the side as his chest plates opened. Shocked and intrigued, she watched as his battle armor shifted, revealing a heavy cover plating T shape over his spark cover. It shifted away to reveal his spark. The bright shining, powerful pulsing deep colored spark filling his entire spires and beyond.

She felt her jaw gears fail, no sound squeaking out her vocalizer as processing ran wildly. Even as his chest plates closed, the metal reforming over that powerful spark Flareup couldn't state what she felt. Warmth began spreading up from between her legs to her entire middle plating.

"They pressure me all the time to get a bigger shell, more armor and weaponry but I don't. Know why? Crawling through air ventilation systems or drinking high grade in interstellar bars looking for information when you are Leader class warrior mech size ain't a good thing. Large build, larger target for large blast holes I say."

"Oh my Primus!" she yelped, hands flying to cover her lip plates. For the first time in her existence, she wanted a mech to merge sparks with her, not interface alone.

"Nah, he's bigger according to legend. So is Prime and Magnus but thanks for saying that. And your other mechs might brag, but my spark powers this," a click of metal snaps released his groin covering, again double layers to the metal. His limp interface rod stretched down, larger than most she had seen or heard described.

"How do you keep that hidden?"

"You been listening?" Jazz let the faintest irritation overlay his vocal tone. "Spies need cover to work and every femme chasing your size ain't cover. Mechs talk and compare and you heard the rumors on Prime? Made the mistake of being in the general wash racks and cleaning himself for all to see. The ones that heard about his size wanted to prove the first were liars or see for themselves if he was that big. Helped them follow him into battle, as if his size meant everything he did would be big. It is a mech thing. I do not need optics checking me out when I am knee plate deep in double crossing heavily armed nasty bots. And..." He gestured down as his interface rod thickened, rising straight up rapidly.

"And?" she repeated numbly, wondering what other surprise could be left. Her inner valve moistened, the lubricant seeping onto her groin cover.

"Last relationship the femme did not want to leave. I had a mission to complete in a bad area of the planet. Near impossible for me to sneak around with her hanging on my feet pads, crying about no other mech being as big. But she did. Dump me that is. Said I was too small and weak for her tastes. That hurt. She knew what I was," Jazz vented, his tone unhappy.

"What did you do?" Flareup asked, wanting to know the answer while wanting to grab him on top of her.

"Nothing to her. She went from mech to mech, always the same excuse. My friends didn't believe her and my enemies didn't care. To be safe I made me a defense lying about conquests and interfacing with all types to keep new interested parties away and it worked. No one wanted me until you," he leaned over Flareup removing his battle visor to reveal his optics."I may not be scout size but I have their level of sensors. Your engine is cycling fast, cooling fans running and that arousal smell," he sniffed deeply, pulling in the air sample. "Better than fresh energon."

His hand moved across her vision, her groin plate firmly clasped between his fingers. "Never felt me remove it did ya? But you will feel this." She gasped, grabbing for his shoulder plates as his fingers pressed inward, slicking with lubricant before moving apart to stretch her opening. Her hips arched upward as his fingers pushed deeper inside, rubbing over internal sensors.

"Easy femme, you ain't ready for my size. Couple of overloads getting you soft and wet then we interface. I promise. Interfacing over and over in different positions to keep it interesting. And when you can't move anymore, a spark merge or two. Power needs sharing don't it?" Her moan and clenching valve around his fingers was answer enough.

_To be continued..._


	22. Chapter 22 Answers, questions and a disk

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I actually have been working on three chapters at the same time. This new one, the chapter following, and the total rewrite of the darker ch 18 with the matrix visions. Changed it to a kink session between Optimus and Elita with a few of Ironhide's borrowed toys. Please go back, read the new version and review it. Thank you.

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO**

**MT ST HILLARY, THE ARK **

"Elita! Wait up!" Chromia's vocal echoed down the Ark's hallway, her noiseless movement equaling that of a scout. The warrior femme's blue armor stood out among the orange metal walls, her customary blasters hidden away in subspace. The triangular shape of her footpads left no marks or sounds as she pretended to slide to a stop by the elevator.

"No, I am not going to the recreation room for high grade again. I am on my way to meet Optimus to discuss updating operational procedures. Though after that dry discussion I will probably need a drink," Elita teased, pushing the elevator call button.

"Wasn't going to ask. Last time was your suggestion. Not that I care. Ironhide helped me work off the extra energy. I swear he sees me and gets all revved up," the feisty femme chortled, rubbing a hand down her own blue hip plating sensuously.

"Optimus needs more than that lately. For a while, I never knew when or where he was going to frag me. More adventurous and exciting than when we first tried interfacing. Now, paperwork and handing sparklings to their watchers or scheduling time to spend with them are all we have time for. I love each and every one but a little Prime attention would be nice," Elita admitted.

"Then try this. A how to interfacing video, courtesy of our resident chief medic," the blue armored femme rubbed her hands together, a disk dropping out of subspace onto her metal palm.

"Been there, saw that my third shell. The proto dummies the medical academy used are practically drones. I know the basics," Elita said, rolling her optics.

"No dummies here, it's all live! As in Ratchet interfacing Moonie full view and all the sound effects," she waved the disk under the faceplates of the other femme.

"Not our Moonracer. She would never agree to that," Elita hesitated, tempted to see for herself. The elevator arrived, the doors opening and providing a distraction.

"Before you go, here," Chromia smirked, digitally sending a single mini clip packet transmitted in an astro second. From a trusted source, it was opening and displaying before Elita's processors could review it first.

"Wow!"

"Wow is right. That scene is about oh, mid way," Chromia chortled, blinking at the speed the disk disappeared into the other femme's hands. "Ironhide confiscated it from the twins who were watching it on duty in the control center. Claimed they found it lying around in Wheeljack's his lab. Return it when done!" she called out as the elevator doors closed.

**OPTIMUS WORKING OFFICE**

**ADMINISTRATIVE LEVEL**

::Dearest, is your chronometer working? You're late:: Optimus comm signal brushed across her relay, his mental tone curious and amused. Next to Prowl, his femme was guaranteed to never be late for an appointment. He frowned at his desk surface, covered with datapads and piles of human reports. Every minute spent with them and not his femme a wasted minute in his estimation.

::In the north side elevator, arriving on your floor now::Elita responded back immediately, hiding the data disk into her subspace field.

:: Being on time is a trait I expect from all my officers:: Optimus stated, his tone serious even as the unseen smile on his face gave him away.

::You chose your office furthest from the elevator to block out foot pad traffic. Be quicker to transform and drive down the hallway than walk. And if I keep being late, what are you going to do?:: Elita asked, her unseen smile matching his.

::Turn you over to the little monsters:: Optimus answered promptly.

::The twins are hardly little. Or did you mean the next generation?:: Elita's mental tone conveying exasperation and laughter. Sunstreaker's sparkling had taken to putting everything in his mouth plates, resulting in things disappearing and a few rather embarrassing moments. The little sparkling latching onto the nearest metal edge in reach, regardless of where it was on a mech or femme.

::I was thinking of the Dinobot sparklings. Wheeljack's design gave them wheels under their feet pads to move faster. I could assign you and other femmes as foster parents to assist Solaray. Or kidnap the little bots out of the Dinobot's area. Corral them in a pen in the sunlight outside::

::Their sparklings are no less intelligent than ours, different first shells only love. As long as they experience external stimuli they will develop normally. And in case you had not noticed, there are not that many of us femmes to go around:: Elita reminded

'I only need one to turn my existence upside down,' he processed before continuing the internal conversation. ::And the lack of femmes to assist is about to become a greater problem:: Optimus vented deeply, his emotions too mixed to transmit.

::Why?:: Elita

::Ratchet is going to give the Dinobots the "talk": Optimus

"He what!" Her high pitched yell echoed down the hallway and he winced, hearing it through his closed office door. Four steps and the door opened automatically to let her in, one upset femme. "Whose idea was that? And why wasn't I asked?"

"Chief Medical Officer Ratchet, which I approved as Prime. You were in med bay recovering," he rumbled, leaving out the part about their bet. He stood behind his desk, unconsciously assuming his best commanding mode stance.

"Great! Slagging fantastic!" She spun in a circle, arms waving. "That explains everything! If the Dinobots learn how to interface that means my femmes are in danger!"

"Your femmes are battle trained warriors capable of handling themselves and any Dinobot hurting one will face the severest of penalties. The Dinobots have built in safeties in their processes to protect the femmes and any sparklings. You know that."

"I process the femmes will want to jump them! Dinobots are tall, heavily armored with massive chest plates to cuddle against," she raved, not noticing Optimus standing taller to pull his shoulders back to display his simulated glass chest plates more. "Endurance to interface again and again and you may not remember our first times but I do. Too much stimulation and trans fluid and your spark begs for a merge. Chest plates can slide without you realizing it."

"Our first times I delighted in making you arch and writhe screaming into overload to get those plates open, still do," he smirked as she glared. "Oh, right. Uhm bad thing?"

"That depends," she formed a crooked smile on her lip plates. "How many Dinobot sparklings do you want underfoot? Hundred? Two hundred, an army?"

"Grimlock had the matrix or he might never have sired offspring. And we didn't know he had a spark or I wouldn't have handed him the Matrix of Leadership. And not all merges equal sparklings," he patiently explained, the tactician side of his processors running numbers on how long until they were outnumbered by sparklings.

"One merge can. I'm going to start on these reports while you talk to Ratchet. Since you two are good at problem solving, find a solution before being an Autobot means sparkling care giver. We are in a war situation and the Decepticons should be our greatest threat, not running out of energon feeding bottles," Elita sat down gracefully, sliding the chair up to the desk to grab the closest datapad.

"I am sure our chief medic will provide an adequate solution. He always does."

**MED BAY**

**FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER**

"Permanent removal of all interface equipment and interlock their chest plates."

"Ratchet," Optimus pinched his nose plates with his armored fingers. "I'm being serious." The large red and blue armored mech stood inside the doorway to Ratchet's office, determined to get an answer and return to the beautiful femme in his office.

"As am I. As Chief Medical Officer I can delete the reproductive protocols, you will reload them. I can install rising inhibitors, tip locks; even thin the trans fluid to the consistency of water and you mechs will find a way to interface then spark merge equaling little sparklings everywhere. Tampering with the spark is too dangerous for a mech and not even considered for a femme. What did you expect? Welding their cod pieces on? They'd find ways to undo the welds before returning to their quarters!"

"My troops are not that creative. I have vorns of data to prove that from orders I've given them," the ancient Prime said.

"Do you want to guess how many creative injuries I have treated over my career? Interfacing, self servicing, and spark merges with unintentional results and I don't mean sparklings," Ratchet countered. The yellow green armored medic winced internally at the number, tempted to show the other mech medical photos from their treatments then decided against it. Patients needed his care, and the occasional chewing out but not mockery over their injuries.

"Ironhide over using his parts?" Optimus guessed, giving in and moving to sit down in the other chair.

"Try more creative not obvious. Added parts and upgrades not sanctioned medical staff. Power cores that melt the interface rod instead of raising it, trans fluid altered becoming combustible, burning and exploding." His multi faceted blue optics bore into Optimus as the other shifted, wincing and crossing his legs. Venting lightly, Ratchet slid open a side cubbyhole on the desk to remove an energon flask and two small empty cube shapes.

"I never realized that actually happens. Figured it was a story to frighten young mechlings."

"Permanent removal has unintentional side effects but is easier and less painful than what can happen and I can give you a list of 'I didn't know that would happen' injuries to melt your processors." He poured the enriched energon into both cubes.

"Who would allow permanent removal?" Optimus accepted the energon cube, sipping from it.

"Soundwave. He had his entire reproductive systems removed. It was the easiest way to provide the space to install the symbiotic cassette interlink connections and ensure their safety and his. No possible means of interfacing meant no questions of any of their conduct. Really now. What would happen? Ravage up behind one of the other cassettes bent over pumping away? Rumble and Frenzy using sex toys on their oversize boss?"

Optimus shuddered momentarily at the idea of Soundwave on his back plates, blue armored legs spread wide as the cassettes surrounded him. "Ewwww. I do not need that image in my processors."

"Then clean up your processor core Prime. Soundwave himself requested it to prove his caring for the cassettes as a leader and nothing more. I was consulted on the actual procedure. Don't look surprised, one medic consults another as a routine on complicated inter workings while maintaining patient privacy. Especially early in the war," Ratchet finished drinking his cube, refilling it.

"Who did?" Optimus accepted the refill.

"Hook, of the Constructicons or at least that is his designation now. He was a medic before joining the Decepticons and betraying his healing oath. He used his skill to interrogate a captive instead of repairing, citing the end justifies the means. The medical council stripped his credentials and no authorized medic will deal with him. At that time, he consulted me long comm, lying about a accident and the need to remove the damaged parts for total replacement on a civilian half the planet away. He named two critical systems as failed, my salvage instructions based on that information. Instead Soundwave nearly suffered a cascade processor failure, altering him forever. If I had known the truth I would have refused. Offered my help or anything other than ripping out parts."

"I'm sorry, I never knew," Optimus said.

"Not your fault," the medic vented heavily. "One of my good intentions returning to bite my aft."

"And it's such a tempting aft to target," a femme voice commented huskily. Optimus gasped, nearly falling off his chair in surprise as he turned to see Moonracer standing there, her sniper rifle resting against her shoulder. "You two done playing in the past or should I return later with a box of energon wipes and rust stick treats?"

"Make them oil cakes and you can wipe anywhere on me you want," Ratchet smirked.

"Ahem, I heard that," Optimus rumbled.

"Elita never talk dirty? Poor mech," Moonracer chided, moving out and around his chair to lean against her sparkmate.

"I have reports to finish," his baritone rumble ignored as the other two Autobots in the room began snuggling. Optimus left, closing the door while wondering what a medic and sharpshooter felt that attracted them to each other so deeply.

**AUTOBOT PERSONAL QUARTERS**

**JAZZ'S ROOM**

"A mech is a mech

Until he swears to a Prime

A femme is a femme

For all her spark's time," Jazz quoted softly. The black and white mech draped only his arm over the femme, his chassis solid against the wall as he rested on his side plates next to her.

"I swore my oath to the Autobot Prime too," she drawled, on-lining her optics to swivel her head to meet his gaze. Lying on her back plates, she sprawled across the berth's surface, the fluids of their interfacing covering her thighs and port.

"The rhyme refers to parental responsibility. Mechs come of age and choose their profession. Before the war, swearing to a Prime meant administration, or government service without choosing a faction. A femme is always welcome in her parental home," his armored fingers tracing down her bare protoform, snagging here and there over her armor releases. The armor pieces strewn about the room.

"Mechs don't return home?" She accepted his touch, savoring the gliding movements.

"They can. How come you never had sparklings?"

"Why does every mech ask me that? You wouldn't ask another mech that question," she narrowed her optics.

Laughing, Jazz leaned back against the wall before answering her. "You'd be surprised what I've asked another mech. Even tricked them into revealing or doing sweetspark."

"Sparklings are too much a commitment issue. For all we can upload data, there are still important things we have to teach and learn. I'm not sure I could commit that amount of time and caring to another being. What if they turn out wrong? Become a Decepticon or seriously messed up processor wise? Do you know how many fields I have trained in? How many times I've changed locations, duties because of growing bored with the work? If I can't choose my path how do I expect to guide an innocent sparkling what to do?"

"Sounds like you'd be a great parent to me. Course, practice makes perfect but there are things," he leaned over to kiss down her protoform arm. "That you never expect to happen."

"Precisely my point. Have you ever tried teaching a mech to wash himself everywhere, under his armor? Or explain to a femme about torture and disassemble if captured because the Decepticons see us as threats to breed their enemies?" Firestar twitched as his plates moved over a sensitive connector in her side plating. "Or even the basics of interfacing to a bot that is still trying to learn to move in their new shell without tripping? From the physical reactions to the internal lines of pleasure coding without demonstrating?"

"Oh," he grinned, releasing the side cable he had been lightly tugging on. "Those important things. Simple, ahh is good, ohh is better and a scream best."

Firestar blinked, trying to process it out when he shifted over the top of her. A hot hardness tapped against her leg and she moved her leg over to the side before realizing both his hands were on her hip plates. "Are you ohhhhhhh."

Sliding in slowly, Jazz bucked his hip gears to thrust deeper with his larger interface rod. "Ohh is better and the scream? You and me babe, together."

**AUTOBOT QUARTERS**

**OPTIMUS AND ELITA'S ROOOMS**

Optimus stopped in the hallway, audios straining to hear a repeat of the sound. 'Sounded like more than one vocal. Strange.' No warnings triggered, no repeat of the sound occurred and he dismissed it, intent on reaching his own rooms.

"The astro second I leave medical bay, every bot decides they need me. Help Prowl deal with the human military and their endless requests, help deliver four racks of energon bottles with Wheeljack to the recreation room. And onward for hours. And what do I find?" He huffed, wiping at his optical ring. "A stack of datapads neatly stacked in an empty office. Why can't it have been a beautiful femme draped across my desk, needing me?"

Optimus keyed their outer door open, hearing the wash rack in use. At the inner door, he stopped, optics going wide. "Elita? What are?"

"Sorry, got revved up. Trying to cool off," she admitted, stepping out of the shower rinse. Her protoform glistened in the overhead lights, the removed outer armor pieces piled neatly on the nearby bench.

"From reports?" he asked.

"Watching a data disk actually. Trying to," she admitted, toweling off. Her cooling fans whirred audibly as he moved closer, sniffing. Her arousal smell overlaid the cleanser, spreading the warmth from his hidden interface straight to his spark.

'Not on my desk but needing me," he processed, moving right up behind her.

_To be continued..._

_Author's Notes: Yes a cliffie. Next chapter will be hot interfacing and spark merging between Elita and Optimus. _


End file.
